Giles blinked. Gil Grissom? And he knew about Ripper! "Uh, M- Mr. Grissom," he stuttered, retreating a little as Grissom strolled casually into the room. "What- what can I do for you?"

"Oh, come on, Ripper," Grissom smiled, "That the best you can come up with? Not even a 'what the fuck are you doing here'? I thought you were the rebel for life. I have to say I'm amazed to see you even looking respectable!"

Giles blinked and then took a closer look. What he saw made his jaw drop. "Gil! Of all the wondrous things- that's right! You came down to London that summer and Ethan and I-"

"Took me in," Grissom finished, "Yes. Glad you remember me. It took me a while to recognize you too, I must say. You've changed."

Giles looked amused. "I've aged, Gil. It happens to the best of us. But how are you? No, wait! Don't sit down. Let me take you out and buy you a drink. We can talk there."

Gil drove and unfortunately pulled up at the first smoky joint that Giles had visited on his first night out in Vegas. Giles looked at it and furiously shook his head. "Uh, no, luv! Not there."

"Shagged the barman so soon?" Grissom grinned. Giles chuckled evilly.

They drove to another one and stepped inside. A few eyes followed them but they ignored them, content to relax into a seat with alcohol and talk over all the million and one things that they wanted to know.

"So what are you doing here?" Grissom asked, "I don't flatter myself it's to look me up."

"Unfortunately no," Giles apologized, "I'm down for what you Americans call 'some R & R'. Doctor's orders, may I add; he feels the migraines are getting worse due to exhaustion."

"The sins of a misspent life! Do you still have that little place in London?" Grissom asked eagerly, looking more animated than anyone else had ever seen him, "Tell me you finally sold that rat trap!"

Giles pondered how to answer that one. "Gil, I don't actually misspend my life any more. A little over two summers after you left, I left. I went back to the Watcher's Council. I- I've actually been in California on active duty for the past seven years."

Grissom went speechless, staring with incredulous gray eyes at this suddenly different man. "Wow!" he commented inadequately, "I had no idea."

Giles shrugged and went to get a refill. Grissom sat lost in thought for a while, feeling a little silly as certain pretty bubbles burst around him. He'd always imagined those two would live and die in that little dinghy apartment, bodies entwined in the night, minds always no more than a thought apart. He'd remembered that London summer as an enchanted garden and now here was Giles telling him that all of that was gone long ago. Somehow he felt bereft.

"It is a shock, I suppose," Giles agreed, sliding back into his seat. "But I had to go; I began to feel suffocated by all that freedom. A few other things happened that were probably a catalyst for the return of my sanity. The group had already broken up by then too."

"I always thought your group would last forever," Grissom said quietly, "You seemed so close. Though that was mostly the magic. Do you still practice?"

Giles snorted and shook his head. "Not for about twenty years now. Well, a few small castings in the past couple of years and one relatively big one when my Slayer's soul was being poisoned by some evil bitch. But apart from that, no magic."

"I'm sure there were reasons." Grissom couldn't help but wonder if he should ask. This Giles looked kindly enough. But the Ripper he remembered could pick a fight because of one wrong question. Luckily, he'd been able to hold his own back then. Now he was in no fit shape for that. "You've stayed fit. I assume that means your Slayer is alive," he said.

Giles nodded, unconscious of the pride that lit his eyes. "Buffy Summers. She's perhaps the best Slayer in a long time. What am I saying, she is the best Slayer! We just closed a hellmouth under her guidance!"

"I heard about that," Grissom gasped, leaning forward avidly, "I felt the force, you see, the ripples of dark energy that it gave out. It was quite impressive! I was out sick for two days with that! And this is under your Slayer, huh? So the Council must be pretty darn proud of you."

Again, that cautious look on the other man's face: "The Council got blown up, with everyone inside it. I am the Council, now. Well, me, an ex-Watcher in Los Angeles, two retired Watchers in Africa and a parcel of trainees. But that's all that's left. All their resources, all their books- all gone."

Grissom groaned, burying his head at the thought. "The books too? Have you English no respect for such delicate things? Putting them in exploding buildings is not what you do to valuable books!"

Giles laughed. "You remind me of Xander," he joked, "That's something like what he would have said if he liked books. But not any more of course; not since he lost his fiancée."

Grissom sighed and finished his drink, standing up determinedly. "Well, it seems there is a lot to hear and I have a feeling it won't be done in one night. Come on, we're going back to your room."

"Why?" Giles asked in confusion, "We just got here."

"Yes," Grissom agreed dryly, "but I really don't want to give you a welcome fuck in the middle of this place."

Giles laughed again, something he felt like he'd hadn't done in so long he'd forgotten how. "Well, at least you're not inebriated this once. Last time you said that, Ethan and I had just come home to find you drunk on Pink Floyd and cheap whiskey."

"Yes, I remember that," Grissom grinned, "I wasn't that drunk. Ethan had a very clever tongue."

"Yes, he did," Giles said softly, lost in reflection for a moment.

Grissom for his part was content to stand and memorize every line on Giles' face in silence; and there were plenty to memorize. Yes, Ethan had had a clever tongue. But Ripper was the only one who had ever made him scream, and the only one who he would ever allow to do so again.

"Ripper, are we standing here all night?" he finally asked, all innocent confusion. It was a look Ripper had taught him and it was one he still practiced with great success. It had worked on the Bobbies back then and on his fellow CSI operatives now.

Giles shook his head and followed Grissom out, noting the slight emergence of body fat, not sure if he was upset by that. Grissom had never been slim; his body was rather more substantial. But as a nervy young American in the London of the 1970s, on the run from obscurity and not knowing what to do, Gil's body had had hardness to it that even Ripper hadn't had; a solid feel of muscle and bone. Now it was softer with age and the very obscurity it seemed he'd gone back to.

The car ride was silent, both lost in comparing their past with their present. Even walking into the room and stepping into a gentle embrace was soundlessly painful. Both had too much in their heads and they wanted so much to go back to their enchanted summer, a time when they were invincible with their friends and their lovers and their magic.

The touch of lips on lips was the briefest brush of skin, but Giles lost it, feeling Ripper respond to the smell of this man in his arms. Because Gil Grissom smelt much like he used to smell back then- power and need and masculinity and knowledge. The last was not meant to be a major turn-on but on this man it could wreak havoc.

Giles grabbed the back of Grissom's head, pulling him in for something longer and deeper. His tongue licked along the softness of the lower lip, not entering the warm mouth even when it opened for him. He teased Gil, sliding his tongue to the very corners before circling back. Grissom reacted in a way he thought he had left behind. His hand gripped Ripper's neck, squeezing harshly until he captured that tantalizing tongue in his mouth and sucked at it, biting down.

Giles smiled against Grissom's mouth, rejoicing in the hammering in his veins. He could hear his blood thrum and his heart thunder and his hands reached up to the front of Grissom's t-shirt, raking hard down the nubs of the man's nipples. Grissom gasped and bit down again.

"That the best you can do?" Giles mumbled gently, fingers twisting and rubbing.

Grissom growled and bit down hard enough to draw blood. A sharp pain in Giles' mouth and both were licking away blood, and feeling the power surge once more.

Before he knew what he was doing, Giles had maneuvered them both to the bed, tossing Grissom onto his back. He knelt down and removed the man's shoes and socks, hands dexterously moving higher to remove his pants as well. The t-shirt came off and finally there was only flesh. And still on his knees, he pushed the pale thighs apart, smiling at what he found.

"They're still there," he grinned, looking up at smoky gray eyes.

Grissom smirked back at him. "You thought I'd get rid of them?" he asked tellingly.

One slim calloused finger began to trace the complicated pattern of runes drawn on the soft skin, stark white against the paleness. Because Grissom was as pale as Giles was, neither being sun lovers. Their time from habit and association was the night they had once rejoiced in, drawing these marks in a deserted park under a full moon. The runes had burned and itched for days but the magic that night had been worth it.

"You know, you always promised you would kiss it better but you never did," Grissom remarked to the ceiling, hoping Giles wouldn't see the way he almost couldn't breath because of the influx of long forgotten passion and magic. It drugged his mind, made him remember things.

Giles was feeling it too; the gentle touch of his lips on the white-lined skin sent it shimmering over them both. He gave in, diving to kiss and lick and scratch. He left Grissom's white thigh for a precious few seconds while he rummaged in a bag and pulled out a small dagger. Grissom saw it and bit down on his wrist.

Giles settled them better on the bed. "No," he whispered, tugging Grissom's hand away from his mouth, "I need to hear you scream. You understand?"

"Yes," came an equally soft reply. Gray eyes and green eyes stared brokenly at each other and the dagger for a long minute, feeling the seconds tick by with every fearful heartbeat. And then skin accidentally brushed the runes and Grissom arched helplessly, back bowed by the current of tension tightening his spine and forcing the blood to his groin.

Ripper came out to play, a bitten tongue still tasting of blood pushed its way inside his mouth as Giles undressed, teeth nipping around the soft lips under his. Hands assisted him in hurriedly shedding his garments, broad hands with a slight taint of power humming gently under the skin. Giles started as Grissom laid his palms flat against his nipples and began to pulse magic through them.

"Shit! You tease," Giles growled, arming himself with the dagger and kneeling with a wolfish smile. "But I'm going to make you howl for it."

Once the knife had been dedicated, Giles began his task. Grissom did howl that night as Giles took him roughly, blood still glistening on their bodies.