He woke to the sound of someone hammering on the front door. His fingers lost their precarious grip on his book and it fell to the floor. He reached forward in his seat, picked up his precious volume, and slid it onto the book table beside his chair.

He draped the throw over the arm of the chair and walked out of the library into the hall to investigate. He nearly collided with Jack who came from the kitchen with the same intent.

"Oh, hi dad. Supper’s nearly ready. Do you want to go and answer the door?" Jack wiped his hands on the cloth on his shoulder and half turned back into the kitchen.

Rupert continued up the hall to the door and drew the wrought iron bolts.

"Is this Watchers Rest?" The figure of the cab driver was silhouetted in the gathering dusk. Rupert nodded. The driver looked back to his car and walked quickly to the boot to retrieve his passenger’s luggage. Rupert took a step under his porch and saw an old man peering at him from the interior, the meagre light showed his features in stark shadows. His eyes lit from within only one man had that satanic fire in his eyes.

"Ethan Rayne…" Rupert muttered and took several halting steps to the car before he opened the door and Ethan eased his sparse frame from the confines of the vehicle.

Rupert stood a head taller than Ethan as he bent over his stick. The driver deposited Ethan’s case on the doorstep and drove away.

"Rupert, may I stay here awhile? Till the magic dies down…" Ethan’s voice was weak with age and illness. Rupert slid his arm round his friend’s bony shoulders and nodded. He picked up Ethan’s case realising how little he had packed. He wasn’t staying long.

Jack came from the kitchen with a ladle in his hands. "It’s ready! Oh, who’s this?" Jack nonchalantly thrust his hand into his apron pocket where a stake nestled.

"Oh, good. Ethan you’re just in time for supper. Ethan will be staying for a while, Jack." He deposited Ethan’s case in the hall and took his overcoat from his shoulders. Jack disappeared into the kitchen to lay another place.

Without his bulky coat, Ethan resembled an inmate of Belsen. Rupert hung the coat up and caught sight of Ethan’s eyes taking him in.

"Quite a pair of ancient monuments aren’t we?" Rupert quipped and Ethan barked out a laugh, then shuddered and wheezed in its aftermath.

Rupert’s arms surrounded him lending him warmth and compassion; Ethan was well advanced on the path to damnation. Rupert felt Ethan struggling to calm his trembling limbs, at last giving up and simply shaking in his embrace.

"Jack? We’ll have ours upstairs." Rupert turned Ethan to the stairs and ignored his friends tear stained face. He half carried him up the stairs and led him into his bedroom.

Jack knocked before entering and saw Ethan in his mother’s bed with his father perched beside him talking softly. He stifled a comment he was about to make and dropped the supper tray onto the side table.

Both men looked at him and Jack blushed a little, he hadn’t meant to make such a commotion. "Your supper, dad. Don’t let it get cold." He backed out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

"He doesn’t like me…" Ethan whispered. Rupert scoffed and walked over to the table, shifting the tray to the bed. "Here, you’ll like this, Willow’s recipe!" Rupert smiled brightly, "and before you ask, she never told me what’s in it, she just passed the recipe to Jack and he hasn’t told me either. It’s the only secret we ever kept."

Ethan smiled and dipped his spoon into the mixture; it was good to have something solid! At the second spoonful, his hand shook the portion from the spoon, soon his upper body followed suit and he had to abandon feeding himself.

Rupert held his friend steady round his upper arms and took up his spoon; he fed Ethan who ate like a starving man. With food in his stomach, the shakes gradually dissipated and he sighed as he lay back against the soft warm cushions.

"I haven’t had a hot meal in months!" He smiled ironically, "by the time I finished, it was cold." He glanced down briefly lifting the bedclothes. "Uhm, Rupert? You don’t have any protection do you? I’m into rubber sheets in a big way."

Rupert regarded his friend for a long time knowing what that admission had cost him. "You always were perverted Ethan, I’ll see what I can do." He grinned and his friend smiled.

"I missed you Ripper!" Ethan growled. Then he swallowed as tears came to his eyes once more. "I’ve got Olivopontocerebellar Atrophy."

Rupert looked at him mystified, "God Bless you."

Ethan laughed heartily. "Brain turning to marshmallow dear heart, tremor, numb limbs, muscle weakness and …" he lifted his gaze skyward. "Intestinal hurry!"

Rupert sat down while he digested his friend’s symptoms. A sort of resignation had settled around Ethan as he spoke. "No cure?" Rupert asked the question at the same time Ethan shook his head.

"I had the first vague symptoms when you were in “Red Hill” so I decided to redress the balance a bit, I found Mary Sebastian, found you for Willow, set Gorgon on his task to protect you and found this house."

He glanced up at the ceiling and sighed heavily. "This house and its garden are standing on the site of a pagan temple Rupert. I’d dearly love to see the garden before it’s too late."

Rupert was about to ask how Ethan knew all about his affairs when he realised that his friend was asleep.

Rupert took the tray downstairs and warmed his bowl of stew up in the microwave. It tasted as it always had. As he ate another spoonful, he could sense Willow bustling about the kitchen fetching spices and ingredients, the last spoonful halted at his lips as he saw in his minds eye Willow’s body writhing beneath his on the table.

Jack coming into the room broke the illusion and his empty spoon dropped into his bowl with a clatter.

"Ethan Rayne." Jack said his name as though uttering a curse. He threw down the dishcloth. "Why couldn’t you have put him in one of the guest rooms?"

"He’s dying Jack, he deserves the best, I’m sure your mother won’t mind…"

"Dad!" Jack turned and faced him fiercely. "I’m fed up of you talking like mum’s still here. She isn’t… She’s dead! Gone."

Something flashed behind his father’s eyes. And Jack was silent. "Willow is here. I know she’s dead. I’m not daft!" Rupert’s voice cracked with emotion on the last word. "Her portrait gives me a focus, just to see her smiling face in the morning, makes me live another day. Ethan has never had anything like that, well, perhaps me, but that doesn’t concern you." He studied Jack for any more argument and found none forthcoming.

"I’m going to show Ethan the garden tomorrow. Now I’m going to bed. Good night Jack."

End of part 2

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