My Dreams Went up in Ashes


Giles watched as Ethan slept; the light sheen of sweat, an occasional twitch or shudder, a muffled cry or brief contortion of much-loved features indication of the dreams that plagued the young man’s sleep. Rupert ran a soothing hand over his lover’s back, murmuring soft words of comfort until Ethan’s sleep settled once more.

What had they done? No! He… not they. Ethan had come along for the ride as he always did; there was nothing Ethan wouldn’t do for him, he knew that, knew also that his paramour was more than just a little in love with danger and its associated thrills. Getting Ethan’s cooperation in this latest mad venture was no more difficult that it had been getting him to sign up for any of his other ideas in the almost two years they had been together. Only it hadn’t been Ethan’s idea, it never was. Ethan had little more than a passing interest in elementary sorcery despite a rather substantial latent power that Ripper often found himself tapping into; his lover granting him access to his power as freely as to his body. It had been his idea to call upon the demon, he had convinced all of them, their friends—well acquaintances really, but that was beside the point—and his lover, he had endangered them all for his own ever-increasing desire for power, and Randal had paid the ultimate price for Ripper’s arrogance.

He should have known better, hell he did know better; it was nothing but ego and a foolish, immature need to snub his nose once more at his father and the man’s rigid conformity to the patriarchal society to which he belonged—a society that Rupert had been ear-marked to be a part of prior even to having drawn his first breath.

He had brought this upon them and by rights it should have been him lying there tonight; eyes dull, vacant and lifeless where only shortly before they had been vibrant with life and excitement. It should have been him, Rupert Giles, not Randal, who paid the price for his conceit. Who would pay when next his arrogance and megalomania drove him to some act of stupidity that common sense if not his background and upbringing should lead him to know better that to attempt? An innocent bystander? A child? His eyes drifted to the man beside him; someone he loved?

He knew all about the dangers associated with the occult, he’d had them drummed into him since he was old enough to comprehend and begin the rudimentary training required in order to one day take his predestined place on the Council of Watchers. He had thought he could escape his fate, that by thumbing his nose at all his father’s teachings and expectations he could choose his own path in life. So he’d rebelled; chosen to walk a forbidden path, playing with magics so dark, powerful and addictive that he had begun to think himself invulnerable. That misassumption had, tonight, led to death; excruciating, tormented and horrifying death.

He knew what he had to do. It didn’t make doing it any easier, or any more welcome but for once he would do what was right rather than what he wanted.

With a soft sigh the body beneath his hand relaxed fully. Leaning forward Ripper pressed a gentle kiss against the warm back, his eyes closed tightly against the moisture that gathered, his lips lingering for a moment before he forced himself to move away. After dressing and collecting the barest essentials he moved back to the bed; brushing his fingers wistfully through the soft dark hair where it curled gently against the back of Ethan’s neck he breathed, “I’ll miss you,” before turning quickly and walking away. His aching heart screamed at him to turn around, to wake his lover and take him along, but he couldn’t; he had put Ethan in enough peril already and a watcher’s life was fraught with danger. Far better to leave now and let Ethan move on, find someone else to love and live a safe and happy life. With a last glance at the sleeping man he closed the door behind him and began the journey back to the future he had once thought to have left behind.