Author's Note: Sorry it has taken me forever to get this chapter up. And please be patient with me as it might continue to go a little slow. The point is, inspiration dried and I've been fighting with this fic forever to get it started again. Hope it's not too late for you guys and I'll try and get the next one by the end of next week.

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Rupert Giles wasn't exactly getting much sleep. Which was fine in normal circumstances, but when the reason he couldn't go to bed was because Buffy had just left at ten at night only to be followed by a seemingly very drunk Ethan turning up on his doorstep, he was convinced it was Just Too Much.

"Ethan, couldn't you just go to bed?" he begged, "I'm tired and so should you be. You've had enough to drink."

"No I 'aven't," Ethan slurred defiantly, clutching his glass as if Ripper had just threatened to wrest it away. "Whe' I've had enough I'll say so! None of your bleedin' business 'nyway."

Giles stifled a sigh. "You're right. So why are you here?"

Ethan looked around in confusion as if trying to determine where 'here' was. Evidently it was Ripper's house. He didn't need to be invited here, surely? Unless it wasn't Ripper's house; in which case he wasn't sure where he was.

"Ethan?" Giles leant forward and shook his shoulder. "Bloody hell, man, pass out respectably if you've had all that much."

"M not drunk," Ethan insisted, "Wan' some?" He held out the bottle, half pouring the rest of its contents over Giles' carpet.

Giles caught it before it crashed to the floor. "Ethan! That's it- get out! I don't want to know anything; I just want you gone. G-O-N-E! Gone!"

Ethan shed an affecting tear. "So does she," he mumbled, grabbing his bottle back and draining the entire thing in one long swallow. He barely noticed the harsh rasp of alcohol washing down his raw throat and settling in his empty stomach. He was barely even aware of the bottle in his fingers. All he remembered was the distaste on her face when she'd pushed him away.

"I don't get it, Ethan. Who's she?" Giles was getting frustrated now. He was tired, damn it! He wanted to go to bed. "Buffy?"

"Who the hell else, Ripper? Sodding dames are all the same; chew you up and then spit you out," Ethan elaborated bitterly, "I did everything for her. I helped her, talked to her, fucked her... whatever she wanted I did. And for what? So she could go back to her darling Watcher! Ye Gods, if you ever wanted to see my fingers burnt, today's your lucky night, my friend. Enjoy it! Got any booze?"

Giles was so taken aback he simply pointed Ethan to his alcohol cabinet and watched his best scotch get raided. Ethan wasn't drunk enough for this, was he? But Ethan was fairly straight on his feet; his hands steady enough in spite of how sozzled he seemed to be. Then again... "Pour us one," the Watcher sighed, "You have some explaining to do."

The next morning, it seemed that Giles was right to distrust himself where Ethan was. He was tired, hung-over and more than uncomfortably aware of what his Slayer meant to his old friend.

So Ethan had fallen in love... again... and this time the girl not only did not trust him, but was patently uninterested in a proper relationship with him. Giles held his head in his hands and cursed the Gods that made him such a soft touch with these things; Ethan was hurting and no matter how many times Giles beat him up, the Watcher cared about that.

So a little thought began to take hold. Buffy's face as he'd mentioned Ethan's name swam into focus. And he made a decision:

"Glad to see you awake," Giles commented dryly, smiling in not a little amusement to see Ethan's bloodshot eyes glaring at him from under the piled blankets on the couch.

"Get out and get lost," the scratchy voice commanded, "Leave me to my death!"

Giles chuckled quietly and handed over the glass of oily-looking stuff that he kept for just such occasions. It wasn't that he got drunk very much any more. In fact, he hadn't had the time for decent booze until Ethan turned up on his doorstep. He was quite proud, actually.

Ethan drank down the disgustingly viscous liquid as if he were a dying man in a desert. He was essentially unconcerned that he was sitting naked on his old friend's couch with nothing but a sheet for modesty. Once he'd downed half the glass, his taste buds woke up and protested such mistreatment.

"Ripper, you dolt, put honey in it next time," he snarked, staring at the remaining potion as if it were threatening to bite him, "Christ, but you never did learn!"

Giles sighed. "I'll give it to you this once for the effort. Now, you won't be back up to your typical erudition until you finish that glass. Then you can call the curses of Janus down on my arse all you like."

"Yes, mum."

"Enough, Ethan," Giles warned, "Or I'll spank you."

Ethan chuckled his 'medicine' in good grace and with a grimace. It still didn't taste right, having a sickly sweet aftertaste that he didn't remember from the last time he'd drunk this. Though, that said, it had been quite a while since he'd even tasted whiskey in Ripper's presence let alone tasted the weird concoctions for hang-overs that Ripper swore by... and why were his fingers aching?

Giles kept a very impassive face as his old friend stared at his trembling hands. He said nothing as the man gave a strangled groan and clutched at his stomach.

"R-Ripper! What the hell..."

"Don't fight it, Ethan," the Head of the Watcher's Council advised, "Just let it happen and it won't hurt so much."

"You bastard," Ethan yelped, feeling his bones twist and his skin ripple so hard he feared was rending apart.

Giles left him then, escaping to the kitchen to get away from the sheer terror of what he was doing. He stood with bare feet on the cold tile and took deep breaths, counting each time he exhaled as he blocked his ears against the groans that began to escalate to screams.

And then- then there was silence.

And nothing disturbed the peace but some damned bird that insisted on squawking in his backyard. Giles pinched the bridge of his nose as he stopped himself from tossing a fire spell at the thing in his irritation. But eventually he forced himself to enter the living room and take a look at his handiwork.

"Oh dear," slipped out, "Whatever will Buffy say!"

Dark eyes glared furiously at him as Ethan pushed himself awkwardly off the floor. "You bastard," the chaos mage repeated feelingly, "What the hell was that for!"

In answer, Giles felt himself start to smile. Ethan frowned as the other male began to laugh. And finally decided the man was mad when he fell into a chair and into hysterics. Giles finally sobered up enough to grab Ethan's shoulder hard and pull him up to his bedroom. Ethan baulked at first, feeling not a little suspicious of this insanely unpredictable version of his old mate. After a brief tussle on the stairs, he decided to trust him.

Giles dragged him to the bathroom, where the original owner of this Council Safe House had installed a full-length mirror. Not saying a word, he shoved Ethan in front of it and presented the man to his new reflection with a flourish.

But here was no demon, or ghost or ghoul. Instead Ethan was... young!

"Welcome to your rebirth," Giles smirked softly, "I trust you and Buffy now have something a little more in common?"

Ethan could only stare, his eyes wide and innocent as they had first been. Reaching out to touch the mirror, he realized that his hands were no longer scarred and veined, but slender and beautiful as they had once been. He skin was soft and nothing sagged. Indeed, he was now nothing but skin and bones- just as he had once been when sequins were in fashion and he had loved the feel of chiffon against his skin. Chiffon... like that scarf Buffy let him use to tie her hands sometimes.

"But why?" he demanded, impatiently pushing his over-long curls out of his eyes and turning to Ripper.

Giles continued leaning against the doorframe and shrugged. "You said you loved her," he answered baldly, "Buffy's made some bad choices in her life; you might just be the worst. But the most realistic in my opinion, so I'm giving you the chance to try properly. However," he raised a warning finger as Ethan opened his mouth to interrupt, "It is a temporary spell. I will reinforce it only, and I mean this in every way, you and my Slayer ask me to do it. You make her happy; I'll make you younger."

Ethan shut his mouth and turned back to the mirror. Slowly he smoothed a hand over his arm and shoulder and chest, revelling in the return to another time when the world had been young and full of promise. Oh, but he had lived at one time! Not existed as the dried-up old wizard Buffy had seen him as. He grinned as he thought of exactly how he would prove it to her.

"Deal, mate," he giggled, "Get me some decent clothes and I'll go see to that girl of mine."