Chapter Text
When the bandages were set and they were free of the cemetery, Jenny only had one more lingering question. “How could you stand it?” She wanted Eyghon buried and gone from their talks, their touches, but as hard as that demon was to shake, who the Rupert of the past was that summoned him was harder to picture. Not the rebellion, the drugs, or the deceit, just… “That loss of control.”
“Loss of control was exactly what I wanted.”
She shook her head. “I can’t, I can’t imagine giving up that- I can’t give up that part of me.” It was the opposite of what she would have done. What she had done. The moment that external pressure was gone, it was like she was lighter than air. Grabbing at life, opportunity, change. Sure, she had made some poor choices at times, but they had been hers. Her mistakes. Her scars. Her failures. Her successes. Her joy. Her life.
A little bit of Rupert’s own blood was still smeared across his hand as he had held on to her. “And that is something I treasure about you.”
It was perhaps the opposite conclusion anyone would come to, staring at them. Surely she was carefree and wild and without caution, while the man in the tweed with his carefully locked briefcase who kept a strict schedule couldn’t move an inch without first taking out a ruler. But how people wanted to act and how they needed to act did not always align.
So Jenny had kissed him because she had missed him. Because kissing him meant not having to wait for him to kiss her again. Because a demon was not going to dictate what she wanted. And he let her lead, because he was desperate to follow. A man as tightly wound as he kept himself was always near snapping. It was about helping ease some of the burden off his shoulders. It was about guiding him towards something so he didn’t get hurt going the wrong way. The odd stray crossbow bolt aside.
They never did much more than kiss. There was still a lot they were learning about each other. It had been fun for the both of them, she thought, slowly unraveling what was there. They both enjoyed the push and pull. Until she had miscalculated.
He had asked for her help before things had grown beyond much more than a casual flirt. A guide for how to interact with the children, sometimes. She had thought he had been patronizing her, a bit. Possibly also looking at their age difference a little too closely. She was goddamn thirty years old, not a fucking high schooler, but after learning about what he had done when younger, she could understand a desire for some kind of check and balance.
It didn’t make him running behind a damn teenager the moment her secrets spilled out feel any better, though. She hadn’t ever intended to steer him astray, but he had given up control to the wrong sort in the past and people had gotten hurt.
That was a trust she needed to earn back. If he laid himself in her hands again, he had to know she wouldn’t turn him on those he cared for.
Her life. Her mistakes. Her choices. Her family.
Her blind focus. Wasn’t there supposed to be hope in the world? A chance? A glimmer in those eyes for a chance to reclaim his soul? Jenny had been thinking too hard about the wrong man when she made that plea. Your cure.
She had been so goddamn close.
The bindings were broad. It was almost like being wrapped up in a sheet while he transported her. Angelus had gleefully called her his little plum, said no bruising was allowed. He wanted her perfect for display. Jenny wiggled in the trunk of the car. If you kicked out a headlight, someone could notice. Call the police. Not that they would be capable of saving her, but it was something. She had to do something. One of her shoes had come off when she had tried to kick him in the chest as he had grabbed her. She had watched him toss it into the car before her. Apparently the full outfit was a must. She should have put more thought into it that morning, if it was going to be the last thing she wore. She had been distracted, like she had been for weeks, just needed to get out the door, and had put on what was near her hand from the closet. Her ankles and her toes hurt from trying to run in heels. Trying to kick in heels. She had felt like a child being manhandled by an adult.
She remembered when Rupert had told her Buffy was the Slayer. The first thought that had popped into her head. She’s so little. Jenny didn’t feel much different right then. The trunk was so spacious she was practically flying around. What if she did kick out a light? What if one person in the goddamn town actually saw her? Could help her?
Her legs were too tightly bound, her knees pressing together. If she could even maneuver herself towards one of the back lights, she did not have the momentum to actually break anything. They were already slowing down. The drive didn’t seem long enough. If she just had more time, she could- she could do something. Her tongue and her teeth were packed against a cloth, keeping her mouth stretched open. It felt like slowly choking, even as she sucked in the stench of car exhaust and oil in through her nose, keeping her desperate lungs pumping. Even if she started screaming, no one sensible would come out to look. You lived longer in Sunnydale by knowing when not to look.
Tears were pooling in her eyes. Her make-up would smudge. If she didn’t look good enough, would he take the time to reapply it? She hadn’t gotten a good look at the tools he had brought with him. She didn’t want to know.
She had heard every goddamn story about every way this monster had killed all her life. He wasn’t really fond of doing the same trick twice. So she couldn’t really think about her gruesome end, because it was impossibly endless. Too many ways to happen.
She was going to die.
She was going to die.
She was going to-
Angelus opened the trunk. He took the time to put on her lost shoe, cold fingers caressing her ankle and gently ticking the arch of her foot. He was careful in the pressure he applied, getting the strap set. No bruising. He pulled her out of the car, and after everything righted itself, she recognized where she was. She didn’t want to. She squeezed her eyes shut. His thumb brushed at the bottom of her eye, taking tears and likely some make-up with it. He tsk’d.
“Really should have brought Spike for this sort of thing. He’s gotten so deft with a little bit of eyeliner.” He threw Jenny over his shoulder and the bone jabbed her right under her ribs as he moved around, taking something else out of the backseat. “Did I ever say thanks for burying him in a church? Well, thanks.”
She hadn’t actually been there for that particular ordeal. It was almost sweet, that she was lumped in with the little gang who hung out in the library. Even as they cast her out, the monster still saw her as part of the pack. Jenny kept her eyes closed. Utterly childish, but, at least it was something she could do. Had he known she planned to come here tonight? If she didn’t look, didn’t that mean she wouldn’t have to watch him die?
Could the last image she had of him be that soft smile, that little extension of hope and trust? Even if she never opened her eyes again, it wouldn’t be the last thing she heard. No way things would stay quiet.
She heard the door and her battered heart tried to rage against its bars all over again.
They were inside the apartment. They had gone in without a word. When the hell had Rupert invited Angelus inside? It would have been Angel, she supposed. He had been helpful to the group in the past, she knew. Meeting at the school likely would have just raised more questions. Of course he had invited him in. He had invited a monster in, been handed a spell to replace the barrier, and hadn’t immediately used it? He wasn’t the only one with a metaphorically open door. Of course Buffy would come first. She was just a little girl, and a random trick of fate said she was never going to get old. Never not be in danger. She came first in protecting.
Rupert had tried to die for Buffy before. Was he going to die tonight because of Jenny?
God, she had told him she loved him, not just because it was true, but because it was also cruel. She could understand his hesitance to be near her, but it still fucking hurt that he refused to speak to her like an adult. She couldn’t stop being a little petty, in all her honesty. Now she wished she had told him at a time where it would have been possible for him to say it back. Sometimes freewill meant you indulged in some truly shit priorities.
Jenny was set down on her feet and she wobbled without a hand to steady her, a solid thunk of something being set down near the kitchen making her turn her head. He slowly began untying her and when she tried to lean away his hand trapped her at the small of her back, his other hand rubbed almost soothingly at her shoulder.
“I need you warm. So when he reaches for you, there’s that last little moment, as he waits for a pulse, he can think you’re still alive.” He tugged at the gag tied around her mouth, but didn’t loosen it. “Come on, where’s those rose-y cheeks?” He smacked her, and her eyes jolted open from the shock as she choked around the cloth still in the way. So much for no bruising. “Don’t hide. He should see your pretty face.” He delicately began to tuck her hair back behind her ear.
Angelus began to half-walk, half-waltz her into the main living space. His spinning quasi-dance was slow, intimate. It gave her plenty of time to notice the bucket of champagne and the flowers. Jenny wasn’t sure which of them he thought was that cliché, her or Rupert. “I know waiting on the bed is a little forward, but you’re one of those new age types. Then again,” he laughed. “A gypsy will open her legs up for anything that blows through town. You know I had that favored daughter before I killed her, right? Wasn’t even really a taking.” He brought his lips right to the shell of her ear, so she could feel his grin. “Guess being easy runs in the family.”
When she tried shoving away once again his grip tightened on her wrists, slowly beginning to stretch her arms out from their held dancing position, as if he was contemplating pulling her apart. Just as her shoulders were beginning to ache he loosened his grip. “I should get the music on. Set the mood.”
Rupert had a decent music collection. She had tried not to make too many appreciative noises when she had first seen it. The little self-satisfied smirk on his lips had told her he had noticed anyway. Still didn’t mean she hadn’t planned on trying to introduce him to some new sounds.
“God, talk about a man trapped in the past. Though, there is something to be said for the classics.” Angelus kept her locked to his side with one arm, reaching out with his other hand.
If she liked what he put on, would that make things worse? Spoil one more thing before the end? Or give her somewhere to hide in her mind? The memory of a strand of melody she could cling to for comfort? If he was waiting until the very last moment to kill her, maybe- maybe-
-God, the hope was just part of the torture. If Rupert did come home, she would have to watch him die. Watch him watch her die? Who cared about the damn semantics, she didn’t need to keep shaking and waiting for the end. She kicked out at the record player, hoping to topple it or knock something away. If she could ruin this evening enough Angelus might be tempted to speed things along. She needed to stop cowering like she was some damn pose-able doll for his display collection.
Her shoe skidded off the edge of the heavy turntable and several records got caught in the attack and flopped in the opposite direction they had been leaning. Very anti-climatic.
“Hey now,” Angelus simply lifted her up so her feet didn’t touch the ground anymore. “I think you and your boyfriend might need to discuss your dislike of his interests-”
Boyfriend. Boyfriend. She wasn’t in high school. Jenny bashed her gagged face against his shoulder, wiggling and scratching at his chest. She was so little. His hold on her didn’t loosen.
“Here I am, putting on a whole show with you as the centerpiece, and you don’t even appreciate it.” He reached up, fingers tightening on her throat. “If you aren’t going to sit still you fucking gypsy piece of shit-”
The front door opened.
Had he heard Angelus’ voice? Heard the less than impressive clatter from her kick? Known something was wrong because the lights were on? Why had he opened the damn door? Jenny scratched at the hand on her throat, pulse beginning to boom in her ears as her body panicked. The broad palm of his hand could snap her neck just as easily as crush her throat, yet all it took was his damn thumb to stop her brain from getting what it needed. Just his fucking thumb. She didn’t want to die with Angelus being the last thing she saw. She didn’t want to die staring at Rupert. She didn’t want to die.
“Well you’ve ruined the surprise, here I am, with dinner still in the oven.” He was looking past her, towards who had just come in. His face still hadn’t flashed to fangs, still just the shell of a man.
“Let her go.” The whipcord snap in Rupert’s voice wasn’t as strong as it could be. He was scared. Was it sweet of him to be scared? She didn’t want him to be scared right then. She was scared. Scared enough for the both of them, surely he didn’t need to be scared too.
“Why do people always say that? It’s not exactly original.”
Her head hurt. Trying to pull away from Angelus and keep her nails dug into the meat of his hand was becoming too difficult. She flailed her feet as dark began to spot across her vision. The panicked little huffs coming in through her nose didn’t matter when her lungs couldn’t supply anything through her blood. Her other shoe fell off, the one he had secured earlier staying neatly in place.
“Release her.”
A strange look crossed what murkiness Jenny could still make out of Angelus’ face. His hand even loosened on her neck. “Reaching for the dagger already, Romeo?”
That was Juliet.
Wait, dagger? What was Rupert doing? Her finger’s slid off Angelus’ cold skin, uncooperative and twitching. The pressure on her throat made her want to vomit, though with the gag in place that would probably just kill her faster. Hadn’t she been hoping for a quicker end a moment ago? Not while he was here. Not like this.
Rupert’s voice. Hard to make out. Not English? Little sparks of color in her eyes eclipsing the darkness, neurons and nerves screaming, even as everything went gloomy. This wasn’t-
This wasn’t-
“Eyghon?” Angelus suddenly laughed, the disbelief shaking off of him as he began shouting. “Eyghon? Newsflash, I ATE that demon. Do you think Angel took care of that little problem? No. It was me.”
Jenny was tossed aside, and whatever she slammed into didn’t hurt nearly as much as the panicking sensation of sudden weightlessness in her stomach told her it should, so she figured she must have been flung on to the couch. Why had he been shouting about Eyghon? The others… the others had found a way to kill it. Hands around her throat. One more memory of hands around- She desperately clawed at the rag stuffed in her mouth. Knots. There were knots tying it to her head. She needed to take care of those before she kept choking. She wasn’t getting enough air. It barely felt like her lungs were moving. Despite being released a new, more desperate panic had seized her body. She couldn’t see Angelus anymore, which meant Rupert had somehow stolen his undivided attention.
She gagged and coughed once her mouth was finally clear, the ache in her throat seizing at the abuse she had just suffered along her artery. She was still breathing. She tossed the gag aside, half-crawling, half-falling off the couch.
Trying to stand would have been preferable, but her new pounding headache and trembling limbs did not give it to her. Keeping most her weight shoved up against the couch, she slowly crawled, not entirely certain which direction she was moving yet. Her vision still was spotty, and all she wanted to do was fall over and not move, but that wasn’t an option. There was still a monster in the house. There was suddenly a chance to see Rupert. Maybe instead of both of them dying screaming she could see that smile he had given her earlier in the day. That little spring of hope.
Once she cleared the edge of the couch there were two sets of legs as they confronted each other in the entryway and an unusually dirty floor. Not garbage, but-
The spellbook she had lent to him, and a small little sachet of ingredients. He must have dropped them once he stepped inside. She crawled towards the book. She knew the damn spell, and he had brought everything he needed in with him. She just had to get to it.
Rupert screamed and Jenny made the mistake of looking up. Angelus’ face, finally revealed, snarling. The ridges on his vampiric visage seemed to shudder unnaturally, a faint green glow fading from his yellow eyes. There was a kitchen knife driven through Rupert’s arm, pinning him to the edge of the counter.
“Trying to choke me on an old meal? Not. Very. Nice.”
Jenny dove forward and grabbed the sachet. Just the words. She just needed the words now. She knew the words. A noise croaked out of her mouth. God. She could do this. She could do this.
“What are you doing over there? Do I need to get more needles to hold you bugs in place?”
A wet noise. A weaker scream. She couldn’t look up. She couldn’t look up again. She clutched the ingredients close, tongue thick in her mouth. The words. She knew these words. It didn’t matter how damn loud she was. She just had to get them out. She whispered, the sharp pain in her throat making her squeeze her eyes shut. One right after another. She knew these words.
“What do you think-”
She crushed the sachet in her palms. If she couldn’t burn them, they had to be dispersed somehow. Oh she knew these words. It was better than a song, some comforting melody from her childhood.
A huff of effort, she couldn’t tell from who, then a groaning, like the building foundation didn’t know what to do. Not quite as a damning as the sound the Hellmouth had made before trying to claw at them all in the library.
Jenny looked up. Angelus had turned back to her, one step in her direction. For a moment, she hoped he was frozen. Then he inched forward. Fuck. Rupert didn’t have a damn cross up on his wall? Really? The man in question was sagging against his dividing wall, right hand shaking as he gripped the hilt of a kitchen knife and yanked the blade from where it had been buried into his left palm. Angelus must have stabbed through him again while her eyes were turned.
Angelus managed another step towards her, the air humming with the confused magics. A barely rescinded invitation was just turning her into a slightly harder to eat meal. She needed to get back up. She needed to run. She needed to do something.
She stared at him, the fragrant sachet clutched to her chest.
Rupert left a bloody trail as he stumbled behind the vampire, practically falling on to his knees as he passed the hall entrance and landed near the record player. His good hand threw open a chest, scattering all the things that had been stacked on top of it.
“None of- you- will- rest-” Angelus snarled.
Rupert slammed a cross against the wall.
There was a crack as if the foundation of the building was shifting, but Angelus’ sudden scream told her it must have been a bone snapping. Rather than the heavy steps he had dragged in her direction, he suddenly threw himself towards the front door. The air itself seemed determined to assist him, and a good chunk of the door burst out in splinters as he was spat outside.
Her heart was still beating so loud she wasn’t sure she could call it quiet. The soft clatter of the cross falling made her start crawling forward once again.
“Rupert?” The name was like broken glass in her mouth. Her throat hurt. Her whole body was shaking.
He was slumped half on the open trunk, blood seeping across his whole body as his ruined arm lay in his lap. His eyes were barely open and he almost looked like he was smiling at her. Stop the bleeding. They needed to stop the bleeding. She clawed her way up the side of the couch, the uneven weight of her feet from her one missing shoe almost sending her back down again, and grabbed the throw blanket, stumbling back to his side and wrapping it clumsily around his forearm and hand. She could barely see the damage through all the blood. They needed to keep his blood in.
“..Jenny…”
“I’ll call an ambulance,” she croaked back, tears once more filling her eyes.
“Jenny…”
“You need a doctor.” It hurt. It hurt so goddamn much.
“I…”
Pressure. Pressure, she wanted to shout at him, but she also needed to stand back up. Get to the phone. She stared at the remarkably non-blood splattered cuff of his sleeve, shoved up above his elbow. He’d pushed up his sleeves before confronting Angelus? What, had be planned for a round of gentlemanly fisticuffs?
“Sleep demons…” Rupert said, seeing something in her gaze that she had forgotten about in that moment. The mark of Eyghon, “dreams. They never really go away.”
As if Jenny needed one more reason to have trouble sleeping tonight.