The Prom
To say things had been strained between she and Rupert since the whole fairy tale incident would be a bit of an understatement. They'd fallen completely out of sync since Angel had pulled her out of the sleeping death, and no matter what Jenny did to convince him that she felt nothing for the vampire aside from vestiges of gratitude, it seemed he still wasn't ready to let the situation go.
Rupert was never one to let things slide off his back easily, anyway. She'd known that since they entered into this relationship. He always let things fester; he was a thinker by nature and, many times, that was his downfall. Too much thinking and worrying and analyzing when acceptance and moving on with life would be the easier, healthier choice.
And it wasn't as if they hadn't discussed the situation. There had been calm talks, impassioned arguments, and sometimes terse exchanges. But he still wasn't letting go.
The odd thing, though, was that he wasn't punishing her for what happened, which was what she had assumed would occur. He'd told her many times that what happened hadn't been her fault -- any of the times she'd gotten tangled up with Angel. The vampire seemed to breathe complication anyway.
As for the vampire himself, she was certain that situation was very nearly resolved. After she had gone to him, begged him to leave, he had backed off considerably. And they'd had their share of discussions, too, though mostly taking place in the subconscious.
One in particular had occurred just last night, vivid and easy to remember as if they'd had the conversation in person:
"This doesn't hurt you?" she had asked as they walked side-by-side through the park.
"What?"
"Sunlight." It had been playing through the trees, lighting the greens of the leaves and leaving patterns across the ground. When they had turned one particular corner, it had gotten in their eyes. And yet he remained singe-free.
"Asleep and dreaming is really the only time I get to enjoy sunlight," he'd told her with a small, albeit sad, smile, and Jenny had felt a pang of empathy for all of life's simple pleasures he'd been without for the last couple centuries.
"Angel... about what I asked you to do--"
"I understand why you did," he'd told her, calmly. "I understand completely. And... to be honest, I've felt for some time that a change of location might be a good idea. I've... been... having doubts."
"About what?"
"Me and Buffy."
"This isn't because of me, is it?"
"No, this is because of me. Because of what I am, and what I can't give to her." He had shaken his head. "Compared to my lifespan, Buffy's a newborn. She's got so much ahead of her, and she's going to have a hard enough time having a life as it is, being a Slayer. Toss our complicated relationship into the mix, and..." He had trailed off, shaking his head.
"You still love her?"
"Of course. I will forever. I just... can't give her the kind of 'forever' that she deserves."
"She's gonna kill me when she finds out I asked you to leave Sunnydale," Jenny's smile had been rueful, a bit knowing, as an image floated to her of the last time Buffy had been truly mad at her. Her hand had ended up around her throat and she'd gotten slammed back against her desk.
"Buffy will never know," Angel had promised her, lightly squeezing her fingers in reassurance. "I couldn't bear it if I ruined another relationship for you."
"If you're talking about Rupert, you haven't ruined anything. Trust me."
"He'll never forgive me for what I did to bring you out of that sleeping death."
"Maybe not," Jenny had shrugged, which she knew wouldn't exactly set his fears at ease. "Maybe he'll never forgive you, and I'm certain he'll never forget it, but..." She had stopped walking, her hand against his forearm making him pause mid-step as well. "I do know that he'll eventually accept it. He will move on."
Problem was, Jenny had no idea how long this 'moving on' process of his would take. He sneered every time Angel's name came up, whether it was Jenny bringing it up or Buffy, and he practically flinched any time the fairy-tale-obsessed demon was referenced.
Her attention diverted as the front door opened, and she glanced briefly at the clock, noting it was past six. "Work late?"
Rupert was never one to let things slide off his back easily, anyway. She'd known that since they entered into this relationship. He always let things fester; he was a thinker by nature and, many times, that was his downfall. Too much thinking and worrying and analyzing when acceptance and moving on with life would be the easier, healthier choice.
And it wasn't as if they hadn't discussed the situation. There had been calm talks, impassioned arguments, and sometimes terse exchanges. But he still wasn't letting go.
The odd thing, though, was that he wasn't punishing her for what happened, which was what she had assumed would occur. He'd told her many times that what happened hadn't been her fault -- any of the times she'd gotten tangled up with Angel. The vampire seemed to breathe complication anyway.
As for the vampire himself, she was certain that situation was very nearly resolved. After she had gone to him, begged him to leave, he had backed off considerably. And they'd had their share of discussions, too, though mostly taking place in the subconscious.
One in particular had occurred just last night, vivid and easy to remember as if they'd had the conversation in person:
"This doesn't hurt you?" she had asked as they walked side-by-side through the park.
"What?"
"Sunlight." It had been playing through the trees, lighting the greens of the leaves and leaving patterns across the ground. When they had turned one particular corner, it had gotten in their eyes. And yet he remained singe-free.
"Asleep and dreaming is really the only time I get to enjoy sunlight," he'd told her with a small, albeit sad, smile, and Jenny had felt a pang of empathy for all of life's simple pleasures he'd been without for the last couple centuries.
"Angel... about what I asked you to do--"
"I understand why you did," he'd told her, calmly. "I understand completely. And... to be honest, I've felt for some time that a change of location might be a good idea. I've... been... having doubts."
"About what?"
"Me and Buffy."
"This isn't because of me, is it?"
"No, this is because of me. Because of what I am, and what I can't give to her." He had shaken his head. "Compared to my lifespan, Buffy's a newborn. She's got so much ahead of her, and she's going to have a hard enough time having a life as it is, being a Slayer. Toss our complicated relationship into the mix, and..." He had trailed off, shaking his head.
"You still love her?"
"Of course. I will forever. I just... can't give her the kind of 'forever' that she deserves."
"She's gonna kill me when she finds out I asked you to leave Sunnydale," Jenny's smile had been rueful, a bit knowing, as an image floated to her of the last time Buffy had been truly mad at her. Her hand had ended up around her throat and she'd gotten slammed back against her desk.
"Buffy will never know," Angel had promised her, lightly squeezing her fingers in reassurance. "I couldn't bear it if I ruined another relationship for you."
"If you're talking about Rupert, you haven't ruined anything. Trust me."
"He'll never forgive me for what I did to bring you out of that sleeping death."
"Maybe not," Jenny had shrugged, which she knew wouldn't exactly set his fears at ease. "Maybe he'll never forgive you, and I'm certain he'll never forget it, but..." She had stopped walking, her hand against his forearm making him pause mid-step as well. "I do know that he'll eventually accept it. He will move on."
Problem was, Jenny had no idea how long this 'moving on' process of his would take. He sneered every time Angel's name came up, whether it was Jenny bringing it up or Buffy, and he practically flinched any time the fairy-tale-obsessed demon was referenced.
Her attention diverted as the front door opened, and she glanced briefly at the clock, noting it was past six. "Work late?"