Ethan looked through haunted eyes at the nightmare scene before him. He dreamed of his uncle every night.

Young Ethan lay on the hospital stretcher, the perfect illustration of his uncle’s ’loving’ care. He was thirteen and made no sound as the doctors bustled around him cutting away his clothing. He heard their horrified gasps as they bathed his wounds and carefully turned him over. Ethan whimpered and found a comforting hand in his immediately. He looked up into the calm eyes of a priest. Ethan’s fist uncurled to reveal a chess piece, a White King; smeared with his blood because he had held it so fiercely.

"I won." Young Ethan’s voice was dead. The priest nodded.

"You did lad, you’ll always win now."

The scene faded with the dawn. His uncle had been imprisoned after that incident. He dressed and checked on Tara. She slept soundly. Ethan smiled; she looked healthy and happy. So much had changed since her leap from the bridge. He set off for Rupert’s. He had a message to post.

Ethan gathered some sticks and a large flat stone on his way to Rupert’s house. He arranged them on the courtyard knowing only Rupert would understand their meaning. He waited a few minutes, his hands thrust in his pockets, willing Rupert awake. Then he shrank back into the shadows when he saw the bedroom curtains twitch.

A week had passed since he made his request for help. Ethan glanced at the door nervously barely touching the breakfast that Tara had cooked for him. He’d gone to check that the message was still intact that morning.

"Where did you go off to so early this morning?" She asked as she poured him a cup of tea.

He flashed a gentle smile. "I’m sorry if I woke you Tara. I left a message for Ripper. We need his help soon." He looked off to the distance once more and felt her soft fingers touch the scar on his palm.

"He hurt you, didn’t he? Damaged your soul." Her eyes searched Ethan’s for the signs of neglect and abuse; he let her see and she wept. The man who cradled her head against his chest prayed that Rupert would come soon.

Ethan checked on the message for three days. Each day he saw the curtains move, then went back home. On the fourth day, he couldn’t get up. Lack of sleep and stress had taken their toll and he lay bedridden stricken with a fever.

Tara marched to Rupert’s house. His car was gone from the front of the house. She peered into the window and saw a pile of mail on the floor. They had gone away.

"Is he back today, Tara?" Ethan asked weakly, when she set his lunch before him.

"No, not today. I’m sure he’ll be back soon, Ethan." She smoothed his hair as his body shook. He just had another vision of his uncle. The visions were draining Ethan’s life force and one day soon, Ethan would be gone.

"Soon." Ethan echoed and lifted the spoon to his lips, managing to eat a little. Tara looked at him; so much had changed since her leap from the bridge. Their roles had been reversed, as she had gained strength Ethan had lost his. From this she assumed the spirit of his uncle had changed his allegiance from her to Ethan.

"Rupert? What’s wrong?" Willow asked, as Rupert stood rooted to the spot. He dropped the luggage and crouched to examine the symbols on the ground. He swallowed the lump in his throat and answered in a voice strained with emotion.

"Ethan needs me. Willow take the bags in, I have to go." Rupert backed away from the message, turned, and hurried back to the car. He drove a long way reaching out for Ethan with his feelings. Images flashed into his mind and he caught his breath. Ethan was so weak.

Soon he pulled into the driveway of a large house. The door opened and he rushed past Tara into the living room where his friend sat in a catatonic state. No words were needed as he swept Ethan up in his arms and took him to the car. Tara scrambled together her few belongings and hopped into the backseat.

"What happened?" Rupert asked looking in the rearview mirror at Tara. One of Giles’ hands rested on his Ethan’s knee. As they put some distance between themselves and the house Ethan began to show signs of life.

"His uncle has left me and is attacking him psychically. He’s driving Ethan’s soul out of his body." She stopped speaking unable to keep the anger from her voice. "He left you signs to follow. Where the hell have you been, Watcher?"

"With Willow." Rupert’s fingers gripped the steering wheel his jaw tightened. "Tara, you don’t know Ethan like I do. Believe me when I say his sense of self- preservation is highly developed."

"Bullshit!" Tara exclaimed, tears streaming from her eyes. "He’s dying! Help him!"

He skidded the car to a halt outside his apartment. Tara got out and willed Giles’ front door open. Willow stood at the threshold stake in hand. When she saw Rupert with Ethan in his arms, she lowered her weapon.

"Ripper?" Ethan whispered with a weak smile. "Does this mean we’re betrothed?" Rupert grinned. Despite the gravity of his situation, Ethan couldn’t resist innuendo.

Rupert murmured, "I love you too, Ethan. Brandy?" Ethan nodded and settled back into the comfortable couch. Tara sat next to him, arranging cushions for his back and tucking the throw round his legs.

Giles paced behind the sofa, his hands trying to release a kink in his spine. He’d been researching for hours. Willow was asleep in the armchair and Ethan cradled a tome in one hand and a brandy snifter in the other. Tara sat on the floor, leaning against his legs and gazing into the firelight.

Ethan looked at his old friend. Rupert seemed to be aging in reverse. He hadn’t looked so good in ages! Then he glanced at Willow. Perhaps it was the witch’s doing. Bewitched by a witch! He smirked.

"What’s so funny?" Rupert perched on the sofa and studied Ethan.

"Oh, just musing on your love life, Rupert, and mine, or the lack thereof. Do you ever think …?"

"No." He interrupted abruptly. "I don’t ever think about us. They don’t know and I don’t ever want them to know. I’m helping you now, Ethan, but after we’ve banished your uncle let that be an end to it." Rupert pleaded.

Ethan nodded. "If you like," he murmured. Rupert held him with a steady gaze whilst the other man savoured his brandy, then he sighed and turned on his heel and retreated into the kitchen to make some tea.

End of part 3

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