"I'll drive, " said Giles. "Unless, you'd like to drive yourself and follow me? After all, you have an expensive car."

"Wouldn't want to leave it in the school parking lot, "Wesley agreed. He paused with his hand on the door handle. "Giles-I-I-can't do this."

"I understand, "Giles said gently, even though he clearly didn't. "See you on Monday?"

"Yes, Wesley said with relief. "See you later." Giles didn't seem too upset, Wesley got into his car and drove away before he had to explain.

*****

Near the campus of Oxford University, 1995.

Wesley rapped his knuckles nervously on the door, then he smoothed the creases of his pants with sweaty palms. Once again he wondered why he had dared to come here. A vague reference from a friend of a friend of a friend, an address written on a scrap of paper- Tell him Morry sent you.

All sketchy at best, but he didn't wish to be humiliated in Spell class again and he'd heard this chap was the best tutor around. Wesley was going to need help if he was to stay at University, as well as finish his Watcher training at the nearby compound.

The door swung open. A tall, dark haired man was revealed. Despite the fact that he was barefoot and wore jeans and a t-shirt, he had an air of grace. Cream's *White Room* was playing at full volume, somewhere in the dark recesses of the cottage.

"Yes?"

"Mr.-Mr. Rayne? M-Morry s-sent m-me."

Ethan Rayne looked him up and down, starting at his loafers and moving upwards from there, ending with an odd little smile. He raised an eyebrow.

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come in, and don't ever call me Sir again."

Wesley followed him into the house, closing the door behind him. There were several small candles burning on various surfaces in the cluttered front room. Ethan motioned for him to sit on the dark green couch.

"What's your poison?"

"Pardon?"

"What do you drink?" Ethan turned to a bar he had set up along the side of one wall.

"I-um-don't...That is... We aren't allowed..." stammered Wesley.

"That'll change," Ethan smiled knowingly. "Time to be a big boy, Wesley."

He poured Wesley a drink of something amber colored. Wesley hesitated. It really was against the rules; Travers had been quite clear on that point. But so was leaving the compound to take extra instruction from unregistered teachers, and he had already broken one rule by coming here. Wesley swallowed the whole drink at once. He couldn't help but make a face as it burned going down, and Ethan chuckled softly.

"So you want to be a wizard, hmm?"

Wesley nodded dumbly, too nervous to form an answer.

"Well, you've come to the right sorcerer then," Mr. Rayne laughed at his own pun.

Wesley usually detested people who laughed at their own jokes.

"Any particular reason why?"

"My father would like me to be," Wesley said stiffly.

"I didn't ask what your father wants. I asked what you wanted. Do you, or do you not want to become a wizard?" Ethan's brown eyes bore into him. His voice took on a challenging tone as he sat down next to Wesley on the couch.

"Not really." Wesley felt his hopes for a passing grade deflate. "I-I can't do it. I'm no good at magic. I try, but I can't even do simple spells."

"Can't is a word which does not exist. Never use that word in my presence again," The sorcerer reached out suddenly and grabbed Wesley's hand. The student was too surprised to say anything.

"You've got very soft skin."

"Well-um."

"Not used to working with your hands? An intellectual perhaps?" Ethan began stroking with long fingers, over the lines that marked Wesley's upturned palm.

"Spend much of your time pouring over facts and figures?"

He traced a finger up Wesley's wrist and lower arm.

"You do all your thinking in your head, and none of it with your heart." The low, soft cadence of his voice was soothing, almost hypnotic.

"Magic has little to do with facts and figures, lad. Oh, they play their part, but magic is about balance, and if your heart and mind are not together, you'll get nowhere."

"If my heart-" The young man looked once more into the entrancing eyes. "And mind are not together..." Ethan's hand had wandered up to Wesley's face, stroking his cheek thoughtfully. Wesley hardly noticed, but when he did, the sensation was not altogether unpleasant.

"Have you made your decision yet?" Ethan purred.

"I want to be a wizard." Wesley said decisively, if only so that this man would keep touching him. Ethan's fingertips crackled with magical energy. The whiskey that Ethan had given him to drink had taken effect. His brain was starting to feel muddled and the room was spinning slightly. His heart was racing, but probably not from the drink. The mage leaned forward and removed Wesley's glasses.

"Windows to the soul -and ooh-such a soul. Where have you been hiding, boy?"

Wesley opened his mouth to speak, but all that he could manage was to exhale the breath he'd been holding.

"You remind me of a friend I once had, from my foolish youth. Two kids couldn't have been closer than we were - Fox and Hound."

"Were you the Fox?" Wesley asked, embarrassed at his audacity.

"What do you think?" The wizard's eyes twinkled playfully.

"I find you quite intriguing." Wesley was inwardly shocked at his own daring. Daring to flirt with another man! He wondered, with a sudden blush, just how far this conversation was going to go. He looked down at his hands, twisting together.

"And I, you." Ethan smiled. He didn't show his teeth. Wesley had heard somewhere that people who didn't show their teeth when they smiled were not to be trusted. Or was it people who did show their teeth? He suddenly couldn't remember even something as simple as his own name.

"What did you put in my drink?" He whispered hoarsely. He felt feverish, the warmth spreading throughout his entire body.

"Nothing." Ethan said. "Do you think I'm the kind of man who invites young men over to his house and puts things in their drinks? "

"I don't-I don't know. "

"I won't lie and say that I don't find you devastatingly attractive. But I do not stoop to putting drugs in other people's food. "

"Then what-?"

"Sex. Magic. Combined with 200 year old elfin whiskey. Makes for a potent package."

"Elves?" Wesley wondered.

"There is a point, if you continue your study of magic, when you will pass beyond merely floating roses."

"I want to learn." *And I want some other things too* Wesley almost added. His breaths were short, panting, his mouth open slightly. Ethan's hand was gently caressing his knee, moving up over his thigh and hip. His almost casual actions had introduced a shameful chain reaction in Wesley, or perhaps the drink had begun that. The young Watcher-to-be wasn't sure anymore, he was no virgin, 5 years of public boarding school had made sure of that., but actually desiring another man was beyond his scope of experience.

"I'm sure you're familiar with the basic types of magic, the four basic elements, and some elementary Latin?"

Wesley nodded mutely.

"Magic circles, simple levitation, herbs?"

Wesley nodded again.

"I see your-mind- is somewhere else right now. " Ethan observed. "You seem confused. Am I going to fast for you?"

"No-not too fast, but, confusing, yes. "

"I find that I like to remove all my clothing when I cast a spell. Helps me feel more at one with the earth." He pulled his shirt off over his head and began to unzip his trousers. Eyes focused on his teacher's hands, Wesley followed the older man's lead, slowly removing his own sweater and unbuttoning his shirt.

"Why so many layers? It isn't that cold outside. "Ethan teased. "Don't tell me-you're also wearing a t-shirt."

Wesley's face flushed. He was wearing three shirts. Or, rather, one shirt now that the other two were in a pile on the hardwood floor. Wesley felt Ethan's eyes studying him as he slipped out of his Dockers somewhat nervously. Ethan said nothing, but his eyes looked pleased.

Placing hands on Wesley's shoulders, he pressed him to his knees. Wesley started to tremble involuntarily as school memories flashed through his mind. Ethan turned to the bar for a brief moment. Wesley had difficulty hiding the small gasp that nearly escaped his throat. For a man in his 40's, Ethan looked really good from the back. Ethan turned back around, holding a bowl of something, and knelt down across from Wesley.

Ethan dipped his fingers in the bowl, then raised them to Wesley. Wesley took the hand and eagerly licked the fingers. That tiny part of him that wanted to know what it was that he was ingesting was calmly ignored.

"What spell are you going to teach me?" Wesley wanted to know.

"Just a simple protection spell, with some fun things thrown in."

Ethan instructed him in the proper Latin words to say, a sort of chanting, call and response series of words. The sorcerer began, and Wesley was to say certain words after each part. Ethan fell into a rhythm, saying the words so many times that they ceased to make sense and became lights, colors, scents and sounds. The voice emanating from Wesley didn't seem to be his own anymore, it was hard to tell the difference between his and Ethan's.

The temperature in the cottage changed, first freezing cold, then blisteringly hot, then freezing cold again. A faint breeze blew around the room, making the candle flames flicker. Petals floated down from somewhere, rose petals, white and pink and red. They fell like rain, hundreds at a time and made soft piles on the floor around Wesley and Ethan. Wesley did not protest when Ethan laid him down on top of the flowers, and kissed him long, slow and deep.

"Do you want to?" Ethan asked.

"Oh Yes!" Wesley gasped between kisses.

Ethan rolled him over onto his stomach. He ran hands down Wesley's back and arse, Wesley raised himself up a bit and spread his legs a little wider. No sound of a packet tearing open. Perhaps Ethan didn't like to use a condom? Wesley wanted this too much to stop him now. He felt the penetration and pushed back onto Ethan. No lube, and that should hurt, but somehow, strangely did not. Nearly face down in the flowers, Ethan's body on top of his, perfume emanating from the petals he'd crushed with his knees. Wesley thought they'd been transported to another time and place, inhabited only by the two of them.

As their bodies convulsed together, sparks shot from both their skins. A pale green glow surrounded them, spreading out like ripples in a pool. They couldn't see it, but the sides of the room melted away, exposing the Things that stood on cold sand, under a star less sky and watched them.

*****

A few weeks later.
Watcher's compound.

Wesley wasn't listening to Professor Hiller at all. He was too busy daydreaming about being in Ethan's bed again. He'd learned so much in the past few weeks, and not only about magic.

"Put your hand here," Ethan would instruct.

"Slower, now take your tongue and..."

Wesley shifted in his chair and tried to drag his mind back to the lecture.

"Where do you think the gills of the Phlarnax demon might be located?"

One hand immediately shot up, it belonged to Jane Camden, Know It All. As with the habit of teachers everywhere, Professor Hiller called on the one student who hadn't been paying attention.

"Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, where are the gills of the Phlarnax demon located on our diagram?"

"Um-" Wesley stammered.

Philip, the guy who sat next to him in Advanced Demon Biology, leaned over and whispered, "Off playing with the fairies again, Wes?"

The teacher sighed.

"I usually count on you to have done your homework, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. Miss Camden, can you supply us with the correct answer?"

"The Phlarnax demon's gills are located in its stomach." Jane said with a smug toss of her luxurious blond hair, turning around to smirk at Wesley.

The teacher looked outside at the summer sunshine.

"Since it is such a lovely day, and most of you seem to be distracted, I suppose I'll let you leave early today"

There was a din of rustling papers and chairs scraping across the antique wooden floor as the students gathered their things. Professor Hiller motioned for Wesley to come over and speak with her.

"I-I will try and study better next time." Wesley promised ferverently. "I've been a bit busy."

"That's not an excuse and I do hope you will start paying more attention. You are, after all, one of my best students. But that isn't what I wanted to speak with you about."

"Then what, Ma'am?"

"Quentin Travers gave me this note-He would like to see you in his study this afternoon, as soon as possible."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Are you in trouble?" Jane asked as Wesley walked down the hallway. She had been hanging up a poster on the bulletin board for the upcoming dance.

"Quentin Travers wants to speak to me."

"Oh dear, could be you're getting expelled, could be they want to graduate you early and make you the new active Watcher."

"Ha ha."

"Are you coming to the Solstice dance on Saturday?"

"Will-will you be there?" Wesley hoped his smile was a confident one.

"Why, Wesley, are you asking me out?" Jane grinned flirtatiously.

"You sound surprised?"

"Well, everyone knows you do bad, naughty things with Ethan Rayne at least twice a week."

Wesley flushed.

"Everyone knows that, hmm?"

"Really, Wes. Everyone knows about Ethan and his *students*. But you're cute, so call me when- or if - you decide to swing the other way. Right now, I need to get to the library and finish my research on William the Bloody." She waved goodbye, and set off down the corridor with a deliberate sway to her hips.

Wesley was only conscious of was one thing.

"She thinks I'm cute!"

*****

"Wesley, I've known you for many years, since you were a child in fact." Quentin Travers began. "And I wish this weren't a subject I had to broach with you."

"Sir?"

"Your parents are much respected colleagues of mine, you yourself could one day find yourself the Active Watcher. But something has recently come up which has me concerned. You've been sneaking out of your dorm at night, and leaving campus. I've been told that you have been paying visits to a certain local wizard."

"I-I needed some extra study help. I know, that-that it isn't allowed, and I'm sorry."

The elderly man sighed and studied the papers on his desk.

"Wesley, son, it isn't the fact that you leave campus. Your grades are fine, and you have yet to be arrested. However, it's the man you're going to see that concerns me."

"S-Sir, M-My sexual orientation is no-"

Quentin held up a hand.

"I don't want to know, Wesley. Furthermore, I have no legal right to ask. It's the man himself. Ethan Rayne is dangerous. Very, very dangerous. He's a powerful mage with absolutely no moral compass whatsoever, and he enjoys preying on my students."

"He's been nothing but kind to me."

"Shall I begin at the beginning then? "Travers cleared his throat. "About 25 years ago, we had a young man here, an extremely promising young man, who came from a long line of Watchers. Like some of our students, he didn't exactly enjoy having a destiny. We tried our best to keep him, but he rebelled, quit our school, and the University, and ran away to London. While in London, he joined a *punk rock* band and fell in with a distasteful crowd. Among that crowd was a boy named Ethan Rayne, who also had a background in magic. They began experimenting with demon worship, and dark magic, and didn't stop until someone was accidentally killed. Our boy realized the error of his ways and came back to the school to finish his training. Mr. Rayne was truly upset by this, he blamed the Council for taking his friend away.

About ten years later, he moved himself to Oxford, setting himself up as a magic teacher. After all, where else would you go but a University town? It's filled with eager young people trying to prove how *open minded* they are. Since then some of our students have gone to him for help, and found themselves seduced, used, and thrown away. Or, in some cases, have gotten so deeply into the dark end of sorcery that they get killed, go mad or any number of other things. And there are many, many things which can happen when you play around at dark magic."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I just can't believe it."

"It is your decision to make, please take care of yourself."

Wesley felt totally confused as he exited Traver's office.

He did not believe that Ethan loved him, that would be silly and naive of him. And there was some measure of using involved, but Ethan made it seem special, made him feel special. So rarely was anyone so gentle and kind to him, that Wesley didn't want to think about Ethan's motives. He only wanted to feel the magic again.

Wesley got on the cross-town bus and rode out to Ethan's cottage. He was desperate, hungry for some sort of comfort and reassurance. Wanted Ethan to tell him the rumors weren't true, that those things Mr. Travers had mentioned were not going to happen. Wesley got off at Ethan's road, and nearly ran up the driveway.

His heart was once again pounding with fear and desire and anticipation. Ethan's house was dark, and when Wesley tried the doorknob, the door swung inwards easily.

"Ethan?" Wesley called as he stepped over the threshold. Ethan's home was silent. In all the times Wesley had been there, it had never been silent. Ethan loved music, and there was always something playing.

"Ethan?" He called again. Wesley stepped into the sitting room, there were no candles burning today. He spied a piece of white notebook paper lying on the bar. Wesley picked it up.

"Hey, Kid.
Had to leave for awhile.
Good luck with your magic.
It was fun, no hard feelings, right?

Ethan."

Ethan walked into the room, carrying a duffle bag.

"Oh, you're early." He remarked casually.

"You're-you're leaving?"

"I have some business in America. "

"When will you be back?" Wesley wished his voice didn't sound so whiny.

"Might not be." Ethan took some of the tiny pots off the bar shelf and placed them in his bag. "I don't really believe in making long term plans."

"What about our lessons?" The unspoken question lingered on the air, *Are you leaving me?*

"You'll do fine on your own. "

"But-"

"Wesley-PLEASE. We had some good times, that's all. Now I'm going my way, and you're going yours." He moved toward the door.

"Ethan!" Wesley cried out desperately.

Ethan turned around in the doorway.

"I thought you were a smart bloke. I've got things to do and I don't need any annoying little boys hanging around and getting in my way."

"I'm not trying to be annoying, I just want to know why-"

"It's none of your damn business."

"Was-was it something I did wrong?"

"The only thing you did wrong," Ethan said in an impatient voice, "was being too bloody easy in the first place."

*****

California, 1999

Joyce placed the teacup in front of Giles and sat down across from him at the kitchen table.

"Well, if it's not about Buffy or one of her friends, and it's not work related, then what IS bothering you?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh, come on! Dish." Joyce leaned forward, chin on her hand, grinning. A gesture which always served to get Buffy her own way, like mother like daughter.

"Very well then." Giles sighed. "A friend of mine seems to be upset and I don't know why, or what I should do about it."

"A friend, or a *friend* friend?"

"A *friend* friend." He admitted.

"Male or Female?" Joyce asked. "It might make a difference."

"Male." Giles felt a faint blush creeping up his face and concentrated on stirring his tea. "He's-he's very young-younger than me at any rate. And our thing is-is new. I'm not even sure we have a *thing*. That is to say, a possible relationship or romantic feelings of any kind-"

"Rupert, don't drag this out or anything." Joyce said dryly.

"The other night, we-er-consumated our feelings in a frenzy of passion on the library floor. Neither one of us was particularly tired, so I suggested we go back to my flat and do it right."

"And he didn't want to?"

"He said he did, and we were about to get into my car, when he changed his mind, complaining of a headache."

"Oooh, a classic. Used that one a lot during the last three months of my marriage."

"I believe that I upset or frightened him in some way, which forced him to concoct an excuse not to spend the night with me."

"Not a virgin by any chance?"

"No, most definitely not a virgin in the sense that we're speaking of, anyway."

Joyce took a sip of her tea.

"Well, it could hardly be that you weren't good-I can't imagine you not being good."

"I-I-You flatter me, Joyce."

Her eyes twinkled.

"It wasn't flattery, it was honesty." Then her expression got a little odd. "You didn't-er-Ripper didn't scare him away, did he?"

"Ripper was not allowed out to play."

"Then I'd have to say that it wasn't anything you did, personally. I think your friend got hurt, probably pretty recently. He got scared off because if he had gone back to your apartment, there would have been-complications- it requires a level of trust that a quickie in the library does not."

"I don't quite understand." Giles furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "People often bring strangers home-I should think he'd feel safer with a friend?"

"Depends on whether we're talking physical safety or emotional? I doubt he thinks you're gonna rape him, and if he were worried about STDs he wouldn't have had sex with you in the first place. I mean-who KNOWS who you've been with."

"Excuse me?" Giles huffed. "I do not have STDs!"

Joyce laughed.

"Relax. If I thought you had diseases, I'd be the first one to be freaking out. Anyway, it's possible that he's afraid you won't be there when he wakes up, or that he'll be some sort of notch on your bedpost."

"I don't do that sort of thing."

"Yes, but Wesley's only known you a couple of months, he doesn't know you that well yet. I suggest you take him aside and ask him what's bothering him. It's the only way to know for sure."

Joyce laughed at Giles' shocked expression.

"Rupert, I'm a mother, you can't hide anything from me."

*****

Giles approached him the next morning, Monday morning. He felt strangely nervous, wondering why he couldn't just let it go.

"You haven't a right to know," Wesley said simply. "May we please forget about it?"

"I don't want to forget about it," Giles insisted. "I consider you a friend, and when my friends are upset I want to know what I can do to help."

"I think I'll go to the teacher's lounge and get some coffee, "said Wesley, and he walked out of the library.

"Why can't I let it go?" Giles wondered. "He obviously does not want to tell me, why am I pushing the issue?"

Wesley came back into the room carrying two cups.

"They had tea. I don't know what kind, " He handed Giles one of the cups, then stood there nursing his own drink and studying it intensely. "I apologize for being snappish before. And for backing out of our arrangement Friday night."

"It's all in the past now," Giles assured him, although he found Wesley's word choice of *arrangement* to be interesting.

"I feel I should make it up to you, perhaps tonight-your place-8 o'clock?"

It took a minute for the invitation to sink in.

"I think I should like that very much," Giles agreed finally.

*****

Wesley showed up promptly at 8, dressed in a nice pair of white pants and a white shirt.

Giles had cooked, while they ate they discussed school and vampire slaying related topics, while trying not to bring up the fact that this basically amounted to a date.

"Have you read about that new, experimental "No Backpack" policy some schools are implementing?"

"I've heard about that, " said Giles. "They believe that it will discourage students from bringing in weapons. "

"Hardly!" Wesley laughed. Giles smiled at him in agreement.

"But most people have not had the experiences we have had, we've faced much worse than a teenager with a penknife."

"This chicken is quite good, " said Wesley. "I myself, can't cook very well at all. I can boil water."

"When you've lived alone for as long as I have, you learn," said Giles.

"There hasn't been anyone-in a long time?" Wesley questioned.

"No, not for several months at least, and it's been longer since I've shared a flat with another person."

"Oh. "

*****

"You don't have to do this," said Giles. Wesley stood in front of him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. His glasses were off, resting on the bedside table.

"I want to, " Wesley insisted. "I want this too." Wesley dropped his shirt on the floor and stepped closer to Giles. He looked Giles up and down slowly, his eyes widening. Wesley let out a deep breath.

"What?" Giles asked. They both flushed.

"Uh-"

"Yes, Wesley?"

"I don't know-why I feel so-" Wesley smiled shyly. "Nevermind."

Giles took pity on the fumbling younger man and drew Wesley to him.

"It's alright, " he said.

Wesley traced the tattoo on Giles' forearm with a shaky hand.

"The Mark of Eyghon."

"Yes, when I was younger, I-"

"I've seen pictures-" Wesley lied. "Of-of the mark."

"Yes, I imagine you did all your research."

They kissed, tentatively at first, then more passionately. Wesley's lips were sweet and soft, and his mouth opened readily for Giles' tongue.

"How do you want-" Wesley started.

"I want to see your face," Giles whispered to him.

*****

Giles was dreaming that he was walking through the aisles of a small magic shop in London. The name and location he couldn't recall, but he knew somehow that he had been there before. Incense burned on various counter tops, herbs hung from the ceiling. He found himself inexplicably drawn to the section in the back, where there were several shelves of books. Two boys, late teens or early twenties were reading. One, six something and with sandy hair and a muscular build, was standing up, engrossed in a thick brown tome. The other, darker and thinner and maybe a couple of years younger, was curled up in an easy chair nearby.

Giles remembered this day and his heart sank.

"Look at this one." Ethan said, holding the book out for Ripper to see. "It's a spell to make it rain flower petals."

"So?" said Ripper absently.

"I thought-I thought we could try it sometime?" His lover asked tentatively. "It says here that you can make any kind you want."

"That foofy romantic crap is for birds." Ripper said coldly. "What are you, some kind of sissy?"

Giles winced at the memory of what he'd said to his best friend. At the time, he remembered taking great pleasure in the hurt look on Ethan's face, and his soft "We don't have to do it if you'd rather not."

"Anyway, I've found something better." Ripper answered. "It's a demon you can summon to have orgies and stuff."

Giles forced himself to wake up. He lay there in bed for a few minutes, wracked with feelings he didn't quite understand. He hated to admit it, but he had not been the only innocent sucked in by that wild crowd. He'd enjoyed having someone to boss around-someone who had a serious masochistic streak-someone who was already so beaten and so unbalanced that he thought it was normal to be taken advantage of.

At times like this, in the deepest, darkest part of the night, Giles knew the truth. Ethan was his fault.

But when morning came, it was always forgotten, or pushed back into his subconscious and he went back to being Buffy's trusted and responsible Watcher. Giles knew this time what had triggered the dream-the thin young man asleep in his arms. Dark hair brushing against his chest, a body of sleek, non obvious muscle, even and contented breathing in his ear. He rubbed a hand gently across Wesley's flat stomach and the small curve in between his lower back and his bottom.

"Mmmm." Wesley mumbled. "Ethan, don't stop."

At the same time, Giles whispered "Ethan, Ethan, I love you."

Wesley's eyes flew open.

*****

They sat glumly together in the kitchen, sipping cocoa and staring at their hands.

"I met him when I was young," Giles explained finally. "At a club."

"Needed magic help," Wesley said. "He was tutoring me."

"Ethan knows his magic."

"Ethan knows a lot."

"Yes, yes he does. He gives pretty good-" Giles started and then stopped.

"So do I," Wesley said calmly.

"He's not like other men, is he?"

"No. He is unique."

"Goes up the down escalator and down the up."

"Literally?" Wesley questioned.

"No," Giles fixed him with that familiar look of exasperation.

"Oh. Do-do you miss him, at all?"

"A bit, yes," Giles admitted. "Very much," he corrected sadly.