Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jenny wasn't able to fall asleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes, it was as if the darkness was reaching for her, and she felt sick. Eventually, she stopped trying.

She stripped off her clothes and went to the shower, setting the shower head to a fine needle spray that stung her skin and assured her that she could still feel something besides the soreness around her neck. The bathroom filled with steam, warm and comforting and heavy in her lungs.

Afterwards, she wiped the fog from the mirror with the palm of her hand. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her bones stood out under her skin. Bruises were darkening on her throat, fingers of blue and purple and yellow. It hurt to swallow.

She put on a dress, light and loose fitting, falling to her ankles. Anything else felt constricting, except for her leather jacket, which felt like armour.

The sun was rising as she left her apartment, tinging the clouds gathering overhead with red.

She'd only ever been to Rupert's place once before. At the time, she'd thought the courtyard of his building was charming, with its warm stucco and sparkling fountain. But that had been in sunlight. Now, the vines climbing the walls appeared sinister, the metal-plated door, ominous. The first few impatient raindrops of the storm to come fell in her hair.

Jenny knocked.

She wasn't surprised when Rupert answered quickly, despite the early hour. He was still dressed in his trousers and shirt, sleeves rolled up and collar open. His glasses were missing, and stubble darkened his jaw.

"Jenny!" he exclaimed in surprise, his bloodshot eyes sharpening in focus.

"I needed to talk to you," she said.

A few more raindrops fell before he thought to step aside to let her in.

As soon as she was inside, her sense of foreboding eased. Being there was grounding, like the sound of Rupert's voice, like his arms around her. The apartment was filled with old wooden furniture, musty books, artifacts and nick-knacks. A Tiffany lamp cast a comforting glow from Rupert's desk, and the green of the walls went with his eyes. She looked around and noticed things she hadn't before – the ancient television tucked into a corner, the collection of vinyl records by the wall. She also noticed the decanter of scotch on the kitchen counter, a little prescription bottle at its side.

Rupert closed the door, and walked around to face her. "You look, um..."

"Like I've spent the past couple of hours throwing up and crying on my bathroom floor?"

He didn't smile at her glibness, but the concern in his eyes was tinged with affection. "You're not well," he said.

Jenny looked pointedly at the pill bottle. "Neither are you."

He leaned against his desk, burying his hands in his pockets and not meeting her eyes.

"Rupert..."

He looked at her, as if from across a great divide.

Her voice broke as she said, "You can finish what you were going to say now."

She knew he understood what she meant. He bowed his head and raked his fingers through his hair, clenching his jaw.

"Jenny..." he said, as if he was going to refuse, or make an excuse. He hesitated.

She waited.

He took a breath. "I love you."

She felt hot tears welling up, and shut her eyes. She realized that a part of her had known that he loved her for a while, though for how long she couldn't say. Since their last kiss, since he showed up drunk at her door, since he promised to not fall in love with her. She didn't know how long she'd loved him. Not that it mattered, or that anything mattered in Sunnydale.

A few hours ago, Jenny had felt numb, and she wished that she could have stayed that way.

Outside, the rain began to pick up, drumming against the windows.

"I'm sorry," Rupert said softly. "I didn't intend –"

"No, I love you too." Jenny sniffed and pushed back her hair.

He stared at her with parted lips and a softness in his eyes.

"Don't act like it makes things better," she said.

He blinked. "No."

She swallowed back tears, throat aching. "How are we supposed to live like this?" she asked, voice close to a whisper.

"I don't know," Rupert said.

Thunder sounded in the distance, and Jenny felt like she'd never escaped the clutches of death.

Giles hadn't been to sleep, and the buzz of alcohol was fading directly into a dull ache behind his eyes. And now Jenny stood before him, hurt and in love with him and hating it. He felt helpless.

She squeezed her eyes shut and ran her fingers into her hair, curling them against her scalp. She breathed deeply, wincing with every breath.

Carefully, Giles stepped closer to her.

"Jenny?"

She opened her eyes.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. She lowered her arms. He smoothed back her hair, and she sighed and leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her. He'd missed being close and unguarded with her, and he held her tightly.

The rain beat against the windows, creating a curtain of noise and the illusion that nothing existed outside that room. The clock on his desk ticked softly, out of time with Jenny's ragged breaths.

"We help each other," Giles said. "As we have been."

Jenny loved Rupert for saying that, and making it sound like it would be enough.

She looked up at him, clutched his shirt collar, and pulled him into a kiss. Into a series of kisses, short and tender, biting gently at his lips.

Lightening flashed distantly.

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply.

When he pulled away, she heard thunder.

"We make it through together, or not at all," she said.

He caressed her face and tangled his fingers in her hair. "Together," he echoed.

"Or not at all," Jenny repeated adamantly. "Don't ever leave me," she said, knowing it was an impossible thing to ask, and not caring. Rupert had made her fall in love with him, the least he could do was promise to not die.

"Never," he said. He looked tired and worn, but his hands held her firmly and his eyes sparked with intensity. He kissed her, like a promise, and breathed against her lips, "Never leave me, Jenny."

"I won't," she said.

Thunder rumbled closer.

They kissed, hungry and desperate, and Giles found that he'd forgotten how long it had been since he'd last held her. Since before the curse, but how many weeks ago was that? It was dark outside, and he wasn't sure what time it was, or what day. He was exhausted, and felt like he was tethered to reality by only the narrowest thread. By Jenny's lips, and hands, and being.

She pulled off her jacket and dropped it on the floor. In the flash of lightening, the bruises on her neck stood out starkly against her too-pale skin. She began to unbutton his shirt, but he caught her fingers and pulled them away. He held them in place with one hand, while the other skimmed lightly over the dark patches on her throat.

She sucked air between her teeth, as thunder crackled.

"Jenny," he said, cautioning.

She kissed him fiercely, and it was a few seconds before he gathered the willpower to grasp her by the shoulders and push her gently back.

"You think I don't know what state I'm in?" Jenny said. "How damaged I am?"

Giles wanted to hold her tightly, and push her away, and kiss her, and look after her, and make love to her. There was a voice in the back of his head telling him to stop, and think.

"We're in love. Can't we have this one day?" she said. Her eyes shone when she looked at him, with all the strength and spirit she'd ever had. As if the past few months hadn't weakened her, but had distilled her soul. He was drawn in completely.

Giles kissed her, like he was helpless to do anything else.

Jenny wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her forehead against his. Lightening flashed, followed closely by thunder.

"We're going to go upstairs," she said, "and make love," he felt his heart beat faster, "and nothing else is going to matter."

In the loft, Jenny could hear the rain pelting the roof, loud and rhythmic. With a crack, lightening lit up the apartment.

She stood by the bed, and dragged Rupert into a heated kiss, pressing her body against his and curling her fingers in his hair. His hands skimmed up her sides and her back, caressing her shoulders and pushing down the straps of her dress. She knelt on the bed, and he dipped his head to kiss her shoulders, her collarbone. She sighed, and shivered. His hands slid around her body until he found the zipper. He pulled it down, and her dress dropped off her form, leaving her naked except for her panties.

She finally finished unbuttoning his shirt, and he quickly pulled it off, kneeling on the bed besides her, He kissed her, cupping her face with one hand, caressing her breast with the other. She ached to be closer to him.

They finished undressing each other clumsily and piecemeal; Rupert didn't seem to want to occupy himself with anything but touching her, didn't want his lips to leave her skin for more than a moment, and she felt the same.

When at last they were both naked, Jenny lay on the bed, and pulled Rupert down next to her. She twined her leg around him, feeling his cock press against her hip. Her fingers traced patterns across his back, and she kissed his jaw and neck, stubble scratching against her lips. His moans and sighs were punctuated by thunder.

He closed one hand on her hip, and pushed her so she was lying on her back. They kissed, his fingers pressed between her legs, and Jenny threw her head back against the pillows, ready to lose herself in him. He kissed her breasts, lips and tongue playing gently at her nipples, while he teased her clit with his fingers. Jenny shut her eyes tightly, and it was only the crack of thunder that let her know that the flash she saw was from lightening, and not the rapidly coiling tension at her core. Then his mouth travelled lower, and without his body over hers, she felt exposed, and vulnerable. Rain beat like a stampede overhead, and her heart raced to match.

"Rupert? Come here."

He crawled up the bed again. Jenny turned so that her back was pressed against his chest; she could feel his breath on her cheek and his cock pushing against her rear. His right arm stretched out under her head, and she laced her fingers with his. She craned her neck over her shoulder and kissed him.

The pounding rain, the creaking wooden bed, the thunder and the sounds escaping Jenny's lips as Giles rubbed her clit combined in an irresistible rhythm. Jenny jerked and rolled her hips, grinding her rear against his cock, and Giles buried his face in her hair. He kissed the back of her neck and grazed his teeth over her shoulder, muttering curses against her skin.

Jenny curled one of her legs over his, and raised her hips so that his cock slid between the wet lips of her cunt. Giles moaned her name. She took his hand from between her legs and clutched it between her breasts, her skin hot and slick with sweat, and he could feel her heart beating rapidly underneath. She sank slowly onto his cock as he held her tight against him. She felt small and fragile in her arms, and at the same time vast and electric, like a storm, and he was lost in her.

They made love slowly, and urgently, caressing and clutching at each other with gasping breaths, limbs tangling as they moved together. Jenny came, starting with a warm glow in her centre that made her toss her head back against Rupert's shoulder, and ending with a burst of light behind her eyes; and he squeezed her hand tightly in his, and came into her with a ragged groan.

They held on to each other, as if the other would drift away should one of them let go, and kissed softly until they fell asleep, the impossible promises on their lips fading with the thunder.

When Giles woke up, the sky was a blank gray, and raindrops beaded on the window panes. Jenny was breathing evenly next to him, her face as blank as the sky, free of worry and fear. He brushed her hair off her forehead. She opened her eyes.

"You can go back to sleep," he said.

"I was already awake." She shifted closer, and brushed her lips gently against his.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"In love," she replied with an expression that said she was leaving it up to him to determine whether that was good or bad. Then she smiled, and added. "And hungry."

"I could make you breakfast," he suggested, his mouth curling upwards.

Jenny laughed softly.

"Or possibly lunch," he said, wondering how long they'd slept.

She nestled against him, caressing his chest with her fingertips. "Lay here with me for a while first."

He ran a finger along the line of her jaw, traced her lips, and kissed her.

"And how are you?" Jenny asked.

"I'm considering running away with you," he said.

Jenny's lips quirked up. "No you're not."

"Not really, no." Watching Jenny sleep, Giles had considered it seriously, the possibility of creating another reality in which they might be happy. But even if they managed to find some way around the quarantine, he'd never be able to live with himself if he left, and he knew Jenny would feel the same way.

She was studying his face, gaze flitting from his lips to his eyes. "Tell me about it."

Giles lay back, and Jenny curled around him, resting her head on his chest. He ran his finger through her hair.

"I thought we'd go to a city where no one would know us," he began. "I'd find a job in a library, perhaps you would work in an office. We'd be married."

She giggled.

He chuckled too, and continued, "Buy a house, own a dog..."

"You really are kind of a fuddy-duddy, aren't you?" Jenny said fondly.

They talked about leaving Sunnydale, knowing that nothing would come of it, knowing that the place they'd made for themselves was there.

"The way you slam your body into mine reminds me I'm alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling, and they're only a few steps behind you, finding the flaw, the poor weld, the place where we weren't stitched up quite right, the place they could almost slip right into through if the skin wasn't trying to keep them out, to keep them here, on the other side of the theater where the curtain keeps rising. I crawled out the window and ran into the woods. I had to make up all the words myself. The way they taste, the way they sound in the air. I passed through the narrow gate, stumbled in, stumbled around for a while, and stumbled back out. I made this place for you. A place for you to love me. If this isn't a kingdom then I don't know what is."

Richard Siken - Crush