Title: Revealing Pictures (8/16)
Series: Giles/Ethan Series (Story 1/Part 8)
Author: Adrienne S.
Disclaimer: None of these characters or situations belong to me and no copyright infringement is intended.

Buffy was sure that the visit would be horrible, but it wasn't. Giles was calm and cool and collected; the accusations didn't faze him a bit. Xander seemed to suddenly realize that Giles actually had a college education and started pestering him with questions about history. Goodnaturedly, Giles answered, with Ethan throwing in his two cents every now and again.

Oz and Willow were snuggling on the sofa, with Willow babbling Willow-fashion at him and Oz being silent in his own Oz-like way.

Ethan spent most of the hour long visit talking to her mother about art and art dealers. Buffy felt her insides go a little squishy when her mother threw back her head and laughed at some of Ethan's outrageous stories. God, it was bad enough with Giles and her mother. Cordelia didn't seem to mind; she was laughing and talking animatedly with the pair.

That left Buffy alone to brood, which was fine by her. She found herself watching Giles as he pointed to a reference in a book. Xander was leaning close to read it, then exclaiming in disbelief. Giles smiled, amused, and said something teasingly sarcastic to Xander, who responded in kind. From where she was still sitting on the stairs, she could see the broad expanse of Giles' back and Ethan's picture flashed into her mind.

She had never seen Giles any less than buttoned up, even on the hottest days, even during training. The most he'd ever expose was his forearms and a little bit by the neck, and only if it were very, very hot. He never even wore short sleeves, although she suspected that a certain tattoo had something to do with that.

She darted her eyes towards Ethan, curious. Ethan, too, was wearing a long sleeved shirt, but had the sleeves rolled up. She could see, even from across the room, the mass of scar tissue, just below the crook of his left elbow. She had to admit, it took guts to pour acid on oneself and not flinch too badly.

And if that weasel had that kind of courage, how much more did her Watcher have? Just what did Angel do to him that got a motor mouth like Xander to clam up entirely?

She had to know. She got up and picked up her purse.

"Mom?"

Joyce looked slightly annoyed at the interruption, but came over.

"Mom, there's something I have to do," Buffy said quietly. Joyce's annoyance changed to resigned concern.

"I know. You have to patrol." Her mother sighed. "Be careful, sweetie."

"I will."

"Buffy, there isn't anything going on. You don't have to patrol tonight," Giles immediately objected.

"Yes, I do." Buffy shook her head. "Not all the vampires are taking a vacation." She saw understanding dawn in Giles' face and could have kicked herself. He knew immediately that she was going to see Angel and he was the one person she wanted to keep in the dark about it. Before anyone could say anything else, she left.

--------------------

"Mom, please." Willow cringed, practically begging her mother to stop crying. She sent a pleading look to her father, but Ira Rosenberg refused to budge.

"Willow, I am so sorry." Her mother sniffled into a handkerchief.

"For what? Mom, nothing happened. Nothing is going on," Willow shouted, a part of her wondering where she got the nerve to talk to her mother that way. "Mom, Giles never did anything to me. I'm still a virgin, for God's sake. You can take me to a doctor and check if you want."

"Willow. Do not taking the Lord's name in vain," Ira ordered sternly. "We'd like to believe you, but..."

"But we've heard so many stories." Sheila picked up where her husband left off. "It's always the nice ones, the quiet ones."

"You don't believe me. You'd rather take the word of somebody like Principal Snyder than your own daughter," Willow spat bitterly. "Just like you believed that I was a witch, no matter what I said."

Sheila coloured and flinched. Ira went even more stone faced.

"Look, Mom, Dad... I appreciate you trying to protect me, but, trust me, there is nothing to protect me from." Willow tried to speak calmly. "Giles isn't a monster or anything. He's a really smart man who helps me with school stuff. Nothing more than that."

"But those pictures," Sheila protested.

"They were done twenty years ago." Willow tried not to shout. "Didn't you ever do anything stupid when you were young?"

Willow watched with fascination as her father slowly lost the stern look and a small bit of colour started to creep into his cheeks.

"Willow..."

"Now, Sheila," Ira warned. "Willow, we trust you. Will you trust us enough to tell us the truth?"

"I have been telling the truth. You say you trust me - do you trust me enough to believe me when I say that Giles didn't touch me?"

A long silence, then Ira cleared his throat.

"I trust you. I just want to be sure that, if anyone ever does try to hurt you that you'll tell us."

"Of course." Willow felt her eyes fill with tears. "Of course, Daddy." Ira softened a little more and wrapped his arms around her.

"It's hard to believe that you're not a little girl anymore, Willow. I just want to protect my little girl."

"I'll always be your little girl," Willow whispered into his chest. Part of her was rejoicing in the feel of her father's arms wrapped around her, but a small part of her was angry that it took a situation like this for her father to tell her that he loved her.

--------------------

Cordelia sat up straight as her father came into the room. Her mother, she knew, was languishing in bed, too fragile to cope with this sort of stress.

Her father looked oddly at her and she wondered if this little crisis had taken him away from some million dollar deal and if he resented her for it.

"Cordelia, we need to talk."

Yeah, she thought. Like we ever actually talk about anything.

"Cordelia, after Principal Snyder called this afternoon, I did some checking into Mr Giles' background," Mr Chase began, sitting down at his desk and picking up a file folder. "Do you know what I found out?"

"That he's a geeky librarian who had weird friends when he was my age?" Cordelia guessed.

"Are you aware that the Giles family is quite wealthy?"

"Hunh?"

"Your Mr Giles is heir to a substantial fortune, along with a large property in England."

"So Giles is loaded. What does that have to do with him being accused of molesting me? Which, by the way, he hasn't."

Cordelia watched as her father slowly leaned back into his chair. He looked almost... disappointed.

"Cordelia, I would like to believe you when you say nothing happened, but you're very young and innocent of the ways of the world." Her father began to lean forward again. "Men such as your Mr Giles have ways of making such inconveniences disappear. People don't like to believe that rich, well bred men are attracted to young women like yourself."

"Eeww." Cordelia squirmed. "Daddy! Giles is ancient and he's definitely not interested in me."

"But he could be. You're a beautiful girl, Cordelia. Any man would be attracted to you."

"Don't I know it," Cordelia muttered, thinking of her father's partner, Mr Jansen, who got really grabby after a few drinks.

"And yet, you're quite certain that Mr Giles would not be attracted, were he to be given any encouragement?"

Cordelia blinked. She was used to reading between the lines of her father's conversations and she didn't like the story this one was starting to tell.

"Daddy, are you suggesting that you'd rather Giles was screwing me? So you can blackmail him and get some of your hands on this money you claim he has?" Cordelia said bluntly.

"No, no. Of course not," her father soothed, not at all put out by her accusations. "I am merely looking out for your future. Your Mr Giles is older, yes, but you need someone with a solid future to offer. You're eighteen, Cordelia, and you need to be thinking ahead, not chasing after high school boys."

"I already broke up with Xander, Daddy. And I'm not going to chase after Giles for his money." Cordelia lifted her chin.

"You need to think of your future. Can these high school boys offer you a happy life?"

"I learned a lot from dating Xander, Daddy. He was never my future," Cordelia said slowly. "I'm eighteen, Daddy, not a hundred. Is it so much to ask that I can have fun like an eighteen year old and not look to my boyfriends as business deals? I am thinking about my future. I have a job and a life and that doesn't include cozying up to a guy twice my age just because he's got money. Besides, it wouldn't do me any good."

"Why not?"

"Because Giles is much more interested in a famous artist his own age than he is in some teenage girl," Cordelia snapped. "He isn't molesting me, he never did molest me, he never will molest me, and if I ever hear about you or mom supporting such horrible accusations, I will tell Giles about this conversation and then you'll find out what a pissed off British guy with connections and money can do." With that, Cordelia stomped off to her room. She didn't know Giles all that well, but she suspected that when Giles got pissed off, it wasn't pretty. She knew he wasn't called Ripper for nothing.

--------------------

"Xander? Where the hell have you been?"

"Buffy's mom invited us all to dinner, since Will was helping us with homework and stuff," Xander replied, far too quickly. He could smell the sour reek of beer on his father and his mother was smothered in not quite enough perfume to hide the rankness of the vodka she had consumed all day.

"Hm. I would have thought you were with that pervert of a teacher, just like you always are."

"Hunh?" Yeah, Xander, play dumb. You're good at that.

"Principal Snyder called today, telling me all about that Englishman at the school and how he's been messing around with you and your friends."

"Messing? No, no messing. It's all neat and tidy. Neat as a pin."

"Yeah." Mr. Harris took a swig of beer and smiled cruelly at his son. "I always knew there was something not right about you, Xander. I mean, what kind of sissy nickname is Xander, anyway? It's something some pansy would go by. Oh, but then again, maybe that's what you are. You spent an awful lot of time last summer with that teacher, didn't you? Alone, in his apartment. Nice and cosy."

"Hey! Willow was there."

"Willow. Willow's a sweet girl, isn't she? You two go off and do girly things together, don't you?" Mr Harris taunted. "Paid off, didn't it? You got your man. I understand he's English, right? One of those Brits with a taste for boys, I'll bet. And you were just ripe for the picking, weren't you, son? Christ, with a kid like you, it's no wonder I drink."

Xander closed his eyes and let the words wash over him. He knew the drill. 'You're the reason I drink' - it always came down to that in the end. No matter what the crisis, it was always Xander's fault that his parents were alcoholics.

He also knew how it would end. 'I love you, please forgive me, I'm a bad person' - yadda, yadda, yadda. Xander wasn't sure which he hated more; the accusations or the pleas for forgiveness. After all, they were one and the same. If forgiveness wasn't forthcoming, the speech started all over again, and again, until he finally gave in.

At least he now knew that none of this had anything to do with Giles. Hell, tomorrow Dad wouldn't even remember what this was all about; it was only another excuse to play out the script. Wait - 'this is hurting your mother' - yep, right on cue. Mom was pretty much passed out by now; he'd have to talk to her in the morning.

Finally, the tears and self recriminations started and he chanted his expected lines, wanting only to get out of there. As soon as he possibly could, he escaped to his basement room and brooded. To his surprise, Cordelia called and offered to take him out for coffee. She sounded as rattled as he felt.

-------------------

"Angel, what did you do to Giles?" Buffy blurted out the question, then bit her lip. That was not the way she wanted to ask, and she certainly didn't intend to ask while curled up in Angel's arms. Angel went totally still, not even bothering to breathe, as he normally did, knowing that it soothed Buffy to feel his chest move.

"What?" he asked finally, loosening his arms to shift to look at her. Buffy could not meet his eyes and her fingers started to play with the ends of the afghan covering her.

"You know that my mom has a new exhibit, right?" Buffy said softly. Angel nodded, looking patiently baffled. "It turns out that the artist is our old friend Ethan Rayne."

"Ethan Rayne? The guy who summoned Eyghon?" Angel asked, for clarification, although the baffled look did not change.

"Yeah. The exhibit is a bunch of pictures he drew of Giles about twenty years ago."

"Interesting. I should go and look," Angel commented blandly. Buffy sighed, knowing that Angel had no idea where she was going with this and was humouring her.

"Ethan's still drawing pictures of Giles," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "He showed me one he drew a couple of days ago. He's good, Angel. He can draw Giles so well that I expected some of his pictures to tell me to stop dropping my elbow." Okay, that got more of the baffled look. Time to bite the bullet. "That picture he showed me..." She couldn't continue. She could hear Xander's comment in her head; it's bad, Buffy, leave it at that.

"What?" Now Angel was looking less baffled and more concerned.

"Angelus tortured Giles," she said quietly, trying to soften the bluntness of the words. "I want to know what he did. No - I don't want to know. I need to."

Angel slowly disentangled himself from Buffy to stand by the fireplace, running his hand through his hair, then scrubbing his face with both hands.

"No." The word was blunt, emphatic and unyielding.

"I have to know. It's haunting me. I can't think of anything else, Angel. I know it was the demon, it was Angelus, but I need to know."

"Buffy..." Angel took the first breath since she spoke and blew it out on a heavy sigh. "Giles showed you some of the histories about Angelus... about me, right?"

"Some, yes," Buffy replied.

"None of it was exaggeration," Angel said quietly. "None of it. What you read is what I did."

"That tells me nothing, Angel. I know you hurt him. I want to know exactly what you did to hurt him."

"That's between me and Giles," Angel snapped. "If he didn't tell you, he didn't want you to know."

"You didn't hurt him that much, did you? I mean, you didn't cut out his tongue, like that guy in Brussels." Buffy tried not to sound desperate.

"If I had, he couldn't have told me how to do the spell," Angel replied, after a long moment. "Buffy, I did everything I could to break him."

"But you couldn't have hurt him all that badly, right? I mean, Giles was there for hours and you only got the information out of him after..."

"I didn't get anything out of him, Buffy," Angel cut in ruthlessly. "It was Dru and her mind tricks that broke him down. He didn't tell me anything other than to get stuffed."

"So you went easy on him. Otherwise, he'd have told you everything long before..."

"Buffy." Again, Angel cut her off. "You really have no idea how strong Giles is, do you? I did everything I possibly could think of to cause him pain. He fought me every step of the way. God, I was so angry I could have killed him. It took four and a half hours before I could get him to scream..." Angel broke off. "Buffy, don't romanticise Angelus. Please. It's hard enough to remember what I did without you making excuses. Giles will carry deep scars for the rest of his life because of me. If he had shot me with a crossbow that time, that would have been too good for me."

Buffy heard the bleak honesty in the tone and felt her eyes fill with tears. Then she frowned. Giles had pulled a crossbow on Angel?

"What time?" she asked. Angel sighed again and sat down on the coffee table in front of her.

"Remember I told you I went to see Giles about the dreams?" Angel asked and, at her nod, continued. "He met me at the door with a loaded crossbow. I don't know why I thought he'd even contemplate helping me. I think I wanted to give him the chance to dust me."

"But he didn't." Buffy reached out a hand. "He knows it wasn't your fault. He knows it was Angelus. He forgave you."

"No, he didn't dust me, but he hasn't forgiven me, Buffy. I doubt he ever will."

"Did you ask him to? Did you tell him you were sorry?"

"No."

"No?" Buffy sat up, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Why not?"

"Because then it becomes all about me," Angel replied slowly, looking at his hands. "What I did... What I feel about it... It can't be about me and my feelings."

"It was Angelus who did those things, Angel. Not you," Buffy said softly, taking his hand in hers. "He knows that."

"That doesn't change the fact that this is the face he sees in his nightmares." Angel's voice went bleak again. "Stay out of it, Buffy. What happened is between him and me and it stays that way."

Buffy resented the command, but realised that there was nothing she could say to change his mind. Angel was wrong. Giles did understand. And he couldn't have hurt Giles all that much; it just didn't make sense. Angel was just being broody and morbid again.

--------------------

"Well, that was fun," Ethan said brightly, as he stacked the cups and glasses, preparing to take them into the kitchen, where Giles was washing up.

"Sarcasm will get you nowhere."

"I wasn't being sarcastic," Ethan replied, almost seriously. "It was fun. I rather like your friends. Then again, I liked Buffy the first time I met her. Resented the hell out of her very existence, but I did like her. And the redhead reminds me of me at about that age."

"You were never anything like Willow."

"Well, I didn't have red hair, nor did I fill out a sweater quite that well, but there was a time when I had the same kind of innocent enthusiasm for magic."

"Innocent? You? You were never innocent, Ethan."

"That was before your time, Rupert," Ethan assured him blandly. "My mother's episode just before I transferred into Eton was a bit of an eye opener for all concerned, except perhaps for mum."

He didn't have to explain that to Ripper. Ripper had met his mother at both her best and her worst. The subject of Ethan's mother was occasionally a source of macabre humour, but never, ever a topic for serious discussion.

"How is your mum, by the way?"

"When I last saw her, she was on some new medication. It made for some interesting conversations. I almost wish I had been in on any of them," Ethan replied carelessly. "Young Xander reminds me a little of Rand. Is that why he's in your merry band of minors?"

"Xander is Willow's best friend. He and Willow have included Buffy in their friendship, of which I heartily approve," Giles replied. "But, yes, as it happens, he does rather remind me of Randall. Without the football fetish."

"God, he and Tommy were quite the pair, weren't they?" Ethan laughed. "I still remember standing on the roof at three o'clock in the morning, a live wire in each hand, waiting for you to hook up the telly from Mrs. Campbell's switchbox. Damn near electrocuted myself."

"If you hadn't been three sheets to the wind by that time, you'd have been a lot steadier on your pins."

"If you hadn't been three sheets to the wind yourself, we'd never have thought it was such a brilliant idea. It worked, though, didn't it?"

"Other than the fact that we then had to nick a telly from the electronics shop. All that effort just so Tommy and Rand could watch the FA cup finals," Giles said, reminiscently. "And if you say that those were good times in a disgustingly sentimental tone, I really shall hit you."

"They weren't," Ethan said, immediately. "You know me. I'm about as sentimental as your bookshelf. In those days we were poor, cold, hungry, angry and green as grass, the pair of us. There were some fun times, Ripper, but I wouldn't go back. I'm far more interested in moving forward."

"I wouldn't go back, either."

"Thanks to your Slayer, you can't, so there's no point dwelling on it."

"Just what exactly are you blaming Buffy for?"

"And why do you assume I'm blaming Buffy for anything?" Ethan countered.

"You said you resent her."

"Well, I do. She's thoughtless, selfish, inconsiderate, immature and undisciplined." Ethan ignored the dark cloud of anger coming over his friend's face. "In other words, a typical teenage girl. I don't resent her, per se, but who she is and what that has done to you."

"She's done nothing."

"She's the Slayer. To say her very existence has done nothing to you is disingenuous at best and downright foolish at worst," Ethan replied. "She's the reason you're here in California, facing a witchhunt from a dictatorial pissant with a small modicum of power, rather than home in England with me."

"You think we'd still be together if I had stayed?"

"No. If you'd not gone back to the Council, you'd have eventually ended up as a splat on the sidewalk just as Randall did."

"I don't want to have this conversation."

"I don't, either, but I think it's past time we did." Ethan shot back. "When you left London, I thought we were still friends. I knew you weren't ready to admit that I meant anything more to you than a warm body to snuggle up with at night and a mate to play with during the day, but I honestly didn't think you'd cut me out of your life so completely. Yes, we had our arguments, but you've always been willing to meet a person halfway. Unless, of course, that person is me."

"You betrayed me." The growl contained both rage and pain, both longstanding and deep.

"In what way? I've betrayed you a hundred times, just like you betrayed me, and we've always gotten past it."

"Not always."

"So exactly what did I do that your oh so forgiving heart couldn't forgive? Christ, you helped a vampire who tortured you."

"You sold me out."

"I'm guilty of a lot of things, Rupert, but I never sold you out."

"Does a thousand pounds ring any bells? A cheque signed by my father, made out to you?" Giles' voice went very, very soft. "A thousand pounds. That was what our friendship was worth. You manipulated me into going back to my family and you got paid for it. You do realize, don't you, that you could have held out for a great deal more?"

"Yes." Ethan refused to back down. "I didn't know you knew about that."

"Oh, I did. I also knew about the hours long telephone calls you made to Bath after you'd put me to bed with soothing lies of how you would take care of me."

"I did what I had to do."

"As did I. The first step was cutting you out of my life."

"No. The first step was to stop running away," Ethan replied. "It was killing you, Rupert. No matter how much it hurt to let you go, I would do it again in a heartbeat."

--------------------

Kissing Cordelia soothed Xander's anger. She was beautiful, bewitching and arousing; his father's accusations no longer had any hold on him. He was in the arms of a beautiful girl, with her curves moulding themselves to his body. No, he wasn't attracted to men; a woman - this woman in particular - was his passion.

He wondered why Cordelia was suddenly so willing to let him touch her. He had thought that he'd never get a chance to kiss her again, but here she was in his arms.

She had attacked him almost as soon as she saw him, startling him by kissing him soundly. She loved kissing, which was fine. He loved kissing, too. But she rarely let his hands stray much farther than a gentle brush on the tips of her breasts. Certainly, she never before allowed him to cup them in his hands, even when they were going out.

Part of him hoped it was a reconciliation, but a part of him knew, somehow, that it wasn't. There was something else going on with her. He wasn't the most sensitive guy in the world, but he did understand vulnerability.

Cordy being vulnerable was a wigsome concept, but he could think of no other reason why Queen Cordy Cock-tease was letting his hands roam.

"You okay?" he asked, as they parted to take a breath.

"Yeah, fine," she replied, although her voice was flat and cold.

"Right. And I'm captain of the football team."

"In your dreams."

"Nightmares, more likely. Being pummelled by a bunch of guys bigger than me is not one of my ambitions. Despite the number of years it's been going on, that is," Xander replied automatically. "Spill, Cordy. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Cordy looked away. "Nothing at all. Dad thinks that I should make a play for Giles."

"What?"

"According to Dad, Giles is rich. Which makes him a perfect suitor for Cordelia Chase." Cordelia's voice was very, very brittle.

"Cordy, you don't... I mean, there isn't anything you want to tell me?"

"Xander, I barely want to speak to you. Of course there isn't anything I want to tell you." The jibe was automatic, Xander could tell, just like his jokes. "I dunno. It's just that my Dad... He wasn't even bothered by the thought that I might have been abused. Not that I wanted him to think I was, but it would have been nice if he'd been even a little concerned, y'know?"

"Yeah." Xander ran his hands through his hair. "I know what that feels like. Your dad's out of his mind if he thinks that Giles would go after you, though."

"Why not?" Cordy gave a flash of a smile. "You're the one who's so sure that Giles is straight as an arrow. And you know I can get a reaction out of damn near any man if I want to."

God, he loved her casual arrogance. And he loved taking her down a peg or two.

"Cordy, it doesn't matter what you look like or what little tricks you have. Giles isn't going to respond to you. Or to anybody, I think." Xander trailed off, appalled at what he just said. Please don't pick up on what I just said, he prayed. Or ask how I know.

"Really?" Cordelia looked surprised. "I thought he'd dealt with Angelus raping him."

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