*****

He's a watcher again; paid, benefited and privileged, as such. Watcher of a slayer, *his* slayer. *The* slayer. He's so *proud* of her. And he's frightened. More frightened than he's ever been.

There are *gods* amongst them.

Perhaps it's only the *one*, but where there is one, *now*, whose to say there aren't *more*? And it's not *right*. She, *it*, shouldn't *be* here. So he sent the others off with reassurances and pats placed upon shoulders, sending them on their way, sending them home and ignoring everyone's bewildered looks; their unspoken pleas for answers. He doesn't have any answers and he just wants to go home and *think* about this.

So he sent everyone home. He sent his slayer home to watch over her sister, to watch over the key, their shared secret. He bid the council a goodnight and sent them on their way and he walked home from the Magic Box so he could think.

A *god*?

He didn't have any answers, and that knowledge, that *lack* of knowledge, weighed heavely upon his shoulders as he opened his front door and locked it behind him.

And then the *smells* hit him: strong tea, peppermint, rosemary, and lamb. Comforting scents from years past. It was like walking into his past. He placed his keys on the counter and closed his eyes, hoping to see his mother when he opened them.

He saw Ethan. And growled.

"What? You *love* lamb, Rupert." Ethan moved forward and kissed Giles' cheek. Giles shoved him aside and stalked into his living room and threw himself into his chair. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I can't *do* this, Ethan, not tonight. I can't." He put his glasses back on and looked at Ethan, his face pleading.

Ethan ignored him and went to the patio door, pulling the curtain aside and opening the sliding glass door. "I can see already that it's bad news, Rupert. So you don't have to tell me right now. And that's fine. Come on." Ethan grabbed Giles' arm and pulled him up, moving him outside and into the patio chair he had prepared for him. Ethan pushed Giles down and placed a plush pillow behind his head. "Sit. Enjoy the moonlight and I'll be right back with your tea."

"This is all very nice and even *sweet* Ethan, but I-"

"Sit!" Ethan cut him off. "I'll listen, *after*." And he left.

He came back with a tray of tea and curried lamb and rice. He fussed as he placed it on the table next to Giles and poured him a cup of tea and Giles was *sure* it was end of days.

He told Ethan so.

"Because I've brought you dinner and tea? I've neglected you *far* too much, Rupert and *you've* neglected to form healthy attachments in my absence, luv." Ethan held a spoonful of curry out to Giles.

Giles took the offering before batting the hand away. "No. There is a *god* here."

Ethan stiffened, looking at Giles. "Really?" He took a seat in the lounge chair next to Giles' and stared at him. "*What* god?"

"Glorificas."

"Um. . .well." He grinned at Giles. "Don't know that one. Better yet, I don't *owe* that one anything."

Giles stared at Ethan. Just stared.

"I'm speaking of a being that is a *god*, Ethan."

"Eat something, Rupert, you're looking as peaked as your slayer. Yes. A *god*. Ooo. It's a big world, Rupert, and you are playing about in it aren't you? What? Did you think you could be Watcher/Father to the hellmouth and never run into something *beyond* what you know?" Ethan asked, coming off his chair and moving to sit astride Giles' legs. He leaned in close, his nose touching Giles. "You *know* there is more than vampires and Bleathvore's out there, luv. What? This Glorificas *scare* you?"

"Yes. She does. She scares me, Ethan. I've never dealt with a *god*, before. *Buffy* has never dealt with a god."

"How do you *know* you haven't? How do you know this Glorificus is a *god*? How do you know *I'm* not a god?"

Giles laughed. Ethan smiled. "Ah. . .I see. Someone *else* can be a god but *I* can't."

"I *know* you, Ethan. You are *not* a god. And the council-"

"Am I a devil?"

Giles smiled and Ethan licked at it. "No. Not even devil."

"Hum." Ethan pulled away and reached over to pick up Giles' teacup. He smiled and let it drop and shatter. He looked at the broken pieces. "Look, Rupert. Really *look* at it. Can you, *honestly*, tell me that that cup isn't somewhere else *whole*? Can you?"

Ethan leaned in and kissed Giles. Pulled back to run his tongue across Giles brow, down his nose and back to his mouth. "I bet if you *asked* the council, they'd classify me as devil."

Giles leaned forward and kissed him. "No. You are a class 'S' rouge magician." Giles told him.

"Really? What's the "S" for?"

Giles wrapped his arms around Ethan and kissed him. He gave Ethan his very *best* kiss, the one that meant he was open and willing. The one that usually led to sex, but wouldn't tonight, the one he's only ever given to Ethan, because, in spite what Ethan says, in spite what Ethan believes, *he* was afraid of the future, afraid there would *be* no future, so he *kissed* him. He pulled back to grin at Ethan. "The 'S' stands for *stupid*, Ethan. For 'stupid'." And in his best Buffy, he added, "Duh." And went back to kissing his Ethan.

End.