Author's Note: Yes, I know this series is taking ages, but please do
forgive me. My characters are changing so rapidly in my head that this
angsty little chapter might seem to be a bit rushed and hurried. I'll have
the next one up in a day or two.
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When morning dawned, the Slayer opened her eyes, squinted at the ceiling and sighed inaudibly.
Ethan wasn't with her and either the man was as quiet as a mouse, or else he just wasn't there. Which left Buffy to get off the bed, grab her jeans and a sweater Ethan has obviously left for her (they'd, um, 'spilt' things on her shirt) and get dressed.
Ethan had left a note saying he'd had to meet Ripper. "Information owed," he'd excused.
So Buffy spent the rest of the morning cleaning up and wondering if she should leave or wait for him. Last night had been as intense as usual. Ethan might not have the stamina of a young man, but the little tricks he knew were enough for her. And he was always careful. She had to smile at a comparison between *this* and her time with Spike.
By rights, Buffy felt she should cringe every time she thought back to how she had hurt the vampire. And for the life of her she couldn't fathom why Ethan didn't fall into the same category. Perhaps she just didn't care enough to bother to hurt him? After all, she always had that connection to Spike, no matter whether he was good or evil. And then she slept with Ethan, enjoyed it and had a pleasant enough time joking around with him afterwards.
Except when he disappeared on her before she woke up.
It wasn't that she was horribly upset not to wake up with the Chaos mage; she promised herself she didn't care one way or another. But this was the fourth time in a week and it was beginning to get a little grating to her nerves.
So she pottered around, examining the absurd little china ornaments that stood on the mantelpiece. She chuckled to herself as she picked up a delicate china lady holding down her hat while the wind blew her clothes astray; the garment had billowed too far up the back. Buffy shook her head and carefully turned the woman's bared china arse away from general viewing. Trust Ethan to have stuff like this!
And then the doorbell rang.
"Yes?" she asked politely, opening the door.
The person on the front doorstep was, to say the least, aggressive. Buffy hurriedly stepped back into the house, conscious Ethan would have extensive wards on his property. The woman looked at her with a smile and a pair of viciously bared fangs. Slayer signals went off in Buffy's head and she was instantly intent on recalling anything close to hand that might serve as a weapon.
The woman made a dart for the door but slammed into some kind of invisible barrier, throwing her away from the house like an uninvited vampire. Buffy got into fighting stance and watched carefully. Now was not the time to be wondering where her host was! She was the Slayer and she could damn well face this alone!
"Who are you?" Buffy snapped, "What do you want?"
"You," the woman growled irritably, "You think I'm trying to get the Wizard? You poor besotted fool!"
"Hey!" Buffy was insulted, she really was. "I am not besotted! Ethan's just a friend!"
The woman let out an audible sneer and made another run for the barrier, trying to rip through the fabric with her claws. But whatever the magic it was, it held firm. Buffy relaxed a little, rolling her shoulders to loosen up the knots. Slowly her fists lowered as she watched the woman's futile efforts to get to her.
Seconds ticked by and people were beginning to stare, to wonder what was going on. A curious couple from across the street called across to ask if Buffy needed some help. The woman's red eyes glinted but Buffy's hands went up. This time, she managed to grab hold of a small knife she'd discovered in a fitting behind the door.
"Try it and I'll drop you," the Slayer warned.
The woman growled and backed away, her eyes fixed fearfully on the knife. She muttered something under her breath and Buffy's eyes widened as blue light danced across the doorframe, blinding both Slayer and demon as magic fought magic. Then demon woman left with one last venomous look.
Buffy slumped and banged the door shut, ignoring the twitching curtain from across the way. She decided Ethan could deal with his own nosy neighbours, thank you very much! Herself, she was getting out of here to the safety of her own home.
"It's not fair," she snarled, striding through the rooms even though she didn't quite know what she was looking for, "It's not fucking fair! All I wanted was some peace and quiet. Is that too damn much to ask? Just some peace and quiet! I just need to think and I *don't* need some dumb demon to try and kill me again! Where's Ethan? Wait till I get my hands on him, I-I- I'll..."
Here she stopped, standing stock still in his music room with a woebegone pout. A poster of someone stared innocently back at her with a laugh in their gray eyes.
How long she stayed there she couldn't remember. It might have been minutes; it might have been years. All she knew was that Ethan found her there, sitting on the floor and staring at the worn carpet.
"Buffy! Slayer, what's wrong?" He dropped instantly to his knees beside her, brushing the untidy hair off her flushed face with a soothing hand. Ethan's heart managed to turn over in his chest as he saw her flinch.
"Who am I?" the woman whispered sadly. Gray eyes looked up to dark ones with a desperate plea in every blue-green fleck.
Ethan opened his mouth to say he didn't understand. Then something inside his mind- the chaotic mental pattern that helped him get to the heart of a swirl of unnecessary elements- told him that he could give her an answer to that question. The man himself didn't think she was ready for that answer so he shut his mouth and put his arm awkwardly around her thin shoulders. "Tell me what's wrong, luv."
Shades of Spike and traces of Giles and was that who this man was to her? Some kind of psuedo-carer she could sleep with so that the nights weren't lonely? Buffy looked up to a worn, craggy face that looked down with a rather unusual amount of compassion at her.
She struggled out from under his arm and cleared her throat. "You had a visitor, Ethan. Or rather, I did, but she came here. Said she was looking for me and that she wanted to kill me."
Ethan didn't see the point. Many, including himself, had said that to her times out of mind in the past. Well, granted he'd never *said* he wanted to kill her! He was usually too busy dodging both her fists and Ripper's fists to get a word in edgewise. But again, his Chaos self sensed the direction without needing words, drawing different aspects together to find her true meaning. Not that he'd ever be able to express it. Sensing it was completely different to thinking it out in actual words and letters.
Oblivious to this mental turmoil, Buffy continued. "She looked human when I opened the door but then she smiled. She had fangs. But so not a vamp cause she was out in daylight. Your wards or what-have-yous kept her from getting to me. She did threaten your neighbours, though, so you might want to check up on them."
"My neighbours are of no concern to me," Ethan said dismissively, "Are *you* all right?"
Buffy waved an airy hand. "I told you, your magic barriers kept her out of the house. I'm fine."
Ethan reached out with his right hand, raising Buffy's face to his gaze with the softest of touches and repeated his question. "Are you sure? No masks, Buffy. You can tell me the truth."
The Slayer blinked at the unexpected gentleness. It wasn't that Ethan was concerned- he'd shown that often enough every time he touched her- it was that Ethan Rayne of all people wanted to know if she was truly okay. Should she tell him that she didn't really know what the truth was? No, better leave philosophical discussions for another time.
"I'll be okay, thanks," she sighed. Unexpected flicker of doubt and then he dropped his hand to listen. "It's just been so long, you know, since I had to fight anything; since I was 'The Slayer'! And I thought that the evil people would think I was retired and leave me alone. Stupid, huh?"
Ethan chuckled. "I'd say so, yes," he teased mischievously, taking the little poke in the arm that a small finger awarded him, "Now could we get off this floor? My knees are starting to lock into position and I'm afraid that tends to be ever so slightly painful."
Buffy bounded lightly to her feet with a grin and gave him her hand to help him up. She rolled her eyes as he made a great show of stretching and left the room first, chattering about getting him the tea that every good Englishman craved. Ethan didn't have to heart to tell her that he didn't really drink tea. That, and he waited a minute until the joint in his left knee really did stop hurting, rubbing it for a minute with a grimace on his face.
The grimace had nothing to do with the physical pain in his knee, and everything to do with the emotional pain of getting old.
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When morning dawned, the Slayer opened her eyes, squinted at the ceiling and sighed inaudibly.
Ethan wasn't with her and either the man was as quiet as a mouse, or else he just wasn't there. Which left Buffy to get off the bed, grab her jeans and a sweater Ethan has obviously left for her (they'd, um, 'spilt' things on her shirt) and get dressed.
Ethan had left a note saying he'd had to meet Ripper. "Information owed," he'd excused.
So Buffy spent the rest of the morning cleaning up and wondering if she should leave or wait for him. Last night had been as intense as usual. Ethan might not have the stamina of a young man, but the little tricks he knew were enough for her. And he was always careful. She had to smile at a comparison between *this* and her time with Spike.
By rights, Buffy felt she should cringe every time she thought back to how she had hurt the vampire. And for the life of her she couldn't fathom why Ethan didn't fall into the same category. Perhaps she just didn't care enough to bother to hurt him? After all, she always had that connection to Spike, no matter whether he was good or evil. And then she slept with Ethan, enjoyed it and had a pleasant enough time joking around with him afterwards.
Except when he disappeared on her before she woke up.
It wasn't that she was horribly upset not to wake up with the Chaos mage; she promised herself she didn't care one way or another. But this was the fourth time in a week and it was beginning to get a little grating to her nerves.
So she pottered around, examining the absurd little china ornaments that stood on the mantelpiece. She chuckled to herself as she picked up a delicate china lady holding down her hat while the wind blew her clothes astray; the garment had billowed too far up the back. Buffy shook her head and carefully turned the woman's bared china arse away from general viewing. Trust Ethan to have stuff like this!
And then the doorbell rang.
"Yes?" she asked politely, opening the door.
The person on the front doorstep was, to say the least, aggressive. Buffy hurriedly stepped back into the house, conscious Ethan would have extensive wards on his property. The woman looked at her with a smile and a pair of viciously bared fangs. Slayer signals went off in Buffy's head and she was instantly intent on recalling anything close to hand that might serve as a weapon.
The woman made a dart for the door but slammed into some kind of invisible barrier, throwing her away from the house like an uninvited vampire. Buffy got into fighting stance and watched carefully. Now was not the time to be wondering where her host was! She was the Slayer and she could damn well face this alone!
"Who are you?" Buffy snapped, "What do you want?"
"You," the woman growled irritably, "You think I'm trying to get the Wizard? You poor besotted fool!"
"Hey!" Buffy was insulted, she really was. "I am not besotted! Ethan's just a friend!"
The woman let out an audible sneer and made another run for the barrier, trying to rip through the fabric with her claws. But whatever the magic it was, it held firm. Buffy relaxed a little, rolling her shoulders to loosen up the knots. Slowly her fists lowered as she watched the woman's futile efforts to get to her.
Seconds ticked by and people were beginning to stare, to wonder what was going on. A curious couple from across the street called across to ask if Buffy needed some help. The woman's red eyes glinted but Buffy's hands went up. This time, she managed to grab hold of a small knife she'd discovered in a fitting behind the door.
"Try it and I'll drop you," the Slayer warned.
The woman growled and backed away, her eyes fixed fearfully on the knife. She muttered something under her breath and Buffy's eyes widened as blue light danced across the doorframe, blinding both Slayer and demon as magic fought magic. Then demon woman left with one last venomous look.
Buffy slumped and banged the door shut, ignoring the twitching curtain from across the way. She decided Ethan could deal with his own nosy neighbours, thank you very much! Herself, she was getting out of here to the safety of her own home.
"It's not fair," she snarled, striding through the rooms even though she didn't quite know what she was looking for, "It's not fucking fair! All I wanted was some peace and quiet. Is that too damn much to ask? Just some peace and quiet! I just need to think and I *don't* need some dumb demon to try and kill me again! Where's Ethan? Wait till I get my hands on him, I-I- I'll..."
Here she stopped, standing stock still in his music room with a woebegone pout. A poster of someone stared innocently back at her with a laugh in their gray eyes.
How long she stayed there she couldn't remember. It might have been minutes; it might have been years. All she knew was that Ethan found her there, sitting on the floor and staring at the worn carpet.
"Buffy! Slayer, what's wrong?" He dropped instantly to his knees beside her, brushing the untidy hair off her flushed face with a soothing hand. Ethan's heart managed to turn over in his chest as he saw her flinch.
"Who am I?" the woman whispered sadly. Gray eyes looked up to dark ones with a desperate plea in every blue-green fleck.
Ethan opened his mouth to say he didn't understand. Then something inside his mind- the chaotic mental pattern that helped him get to the heart of a swirl of unnecessary elements- told him that he could give her an answer to that question. The man himself didn't think she was ready for that answer so he shut his mouth and put his arm awkwardly around her thin shoulders. "Tell me what's wrong, luv."
Shades of Spike and traces of Giles and was that who this man was to her? Some kind of psuedo-carer she could sleep with so that the nights weren't lonely? Buffy looked up to a worn, craggy face that looked down with a rather unusual amount of compassion at her.
She struggled out from under his arm and cleared her throat. "You had a visitor, Ethan. Or rather, I did, but she came here. Said she was looking for me and that she wanted to kill me."
Ethan didn't see the point. Many, including himself, had said that to her times out of mind in the past. Well, granted he'd never *said* he wanted to kill her! He was usually too busy dodging both her fists and Ripper's fists to get a word in edgewise. But again, his Chaos self sensed the direction without needing words, drawing different aspects together to find her true meaning. Not that he'd ever be able to express it. Sensing it was completely different to thinking it out in actual words and letters.
Oblivious to this mental turmoil, Buffy continued. "She looked human when I opened the door but then she smiled. She had fangs. But so not a vamp cause she was out in daylight. Your wards or what-have-yous kept her from getting to me. She did threaten your neighbours, though, so you might want to check up on them."
"My neighbours are of no concern to me," Ethan said dismissively, "Are *you* all right?"
Buffy waved an airy hand. "I told you, your magic barriers kept her out of the house. I'm fine."
Ethan reached out with his right hand, raising Buffy's face to his gaze with the softest of touches and repeated his question. "Are you sure? No masks, Buffy. You can tell me the truth."
The Slayer blinked at the unexpected gentleness. It wasn't that Ethan was concerned- he'd shown that often enough every time he touched her- it was that Ethan Rayne of all people wanted to know if she was truly okay. Should she tell him that she didn't really know what the truth was? No, better leave philosophical discussions for another time.
"I'll be okay, thanks," she sighed. Unexpected flicker of doubt and then he dropped his hand to listen. "It's just been so long, you know, since I had to fight anything; since I was 'The Slayer'! And I thought that the evil people would think I was retired and leave me alone. Stupid, huh?"
Ethan chuckled. "I'd say so, yes," he teased mischievously, taking the little poke in the arm that a small finger awarded him, "Now could we get off this floor? My knees are starting to lock into position and I'm afraid that tends to be ever so slightly painful."
Buffy bounded lightly to her feet with a grin and gave him her hand to help him up. She rolled her eyes as he made a great show of stretching and left the room first, chattering about getting him the tea that every good Englishman craved. Ethan didn't have to heart to tell her that he didn't really drink tea. That, and he waited a minute until the joint in his left knee really did stop hurting, rubbing it for a minute with a grimace on his face.
The grimace had nothing to do with the physical pain in his knee, and everything to do with the emotional pain of getting old.