Disclaimer: All characters herein are owned by Joss Whedon and Fox and/or UPN, except any I invent. I use them with grateful thanks and hope I do a good job!

Author: Jacqueline Burns – jay.b@slayme.com

Use: Please ask first but as long as you credit it to me and don't steal it, then I can't see a problem!

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1.

Giles smiled in anticipation as he opened the door to his apartment, the sweet strains of music spilling out, along with dim lamplight. He hadn't realised she meant so soon. He entered and quietly, absently pushed the door closed. His eyes turned to a nearby table where a bottle of wine, sides frosted and beaded with moisture, stood with two shimmering crystal glasses and a rose on a silver tray, all glowing in the soft candlelight. He smiled delightedly and shrugged off his jacket, hurrying to loosen his tie, not seeing the folded piece of parchment slip onto the floor as he grasped the bottle tightly in one hand and the glasses in the other, and turned towards the stairs, excitement making his face boyish.

"Jenny?" he called softly as he moved forwards. There was no reply, the only sound the soft lilt of the music she'd put on. He reached the top and turned into the bedroom, eyes moving to the figure curled on it, facing away from him, head resting on one outflung arm, dark hair fanning out onto the white linen. "Jenny?" he said again, more uncertainly this time. "Are you alright? Jenny……?" He set the bottle and the glasses down on the bedside table and moved forwards, reaching out to grasp her shoulder……

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Giles searched feverishly through the books, heedless of the damage he was doing to the fragile, yellowing pages, throwing them aside when they failed to yield what he was looking for. It was past midnight and shock and fatigue were clearly etched on his face, the shadows under his eyes becoming more pronounced as he fretted and frowned. He peered even more closely at the current book, flipping swiftly through pages, running a finger down the paper, searching for a clue, for anything that would help him.

Jenny lay in the Sunnydale Hospital morgue, where she'd been taken earlier in the evening. It had taken some time, but the police had finally relented and let him go, seeing his obvious distress, even though he'd tried to hide it. She lay in the fridges now, waiting for the ultimate indignity of a postmortem to be carried out. The coroner had been called, her body bagged and removed, carried away in the sombre, black car. Giles had come almost straight to the library at the school and now searched for a particular ritual, a forbidden magic that would allow him to raise Jenny Callender from the dead, restore her to flesh and blood once more, rather than the lifeless shell that lay in the morgue.

He was so busy in his search that he failed to hear the door to the library open, failed to hear the footsteps click softly across the tiled floor, till her hand was on his shoulder and her soft voice said, "Rupert?"

He yelped and jumped, turning, the book somersaulting into the air, a few pages falling out to drift to the floor, landing long after the volume had thumped down. He stared at her stupidly, seeing the warm dark eyes, the smiling rosy mouth, the dark bobbed hair swinging round her face, shining in the light, her creamy skin. She smiled at him, and stroked his cheek with a cold, cold hand. "J – Jenny?" he stammered, mesmerised by her touch, unable to move as she came closer, dropping her hand to slide her arms around his waist, underneath his jacket, tucking her head under his chin. "Oh, Rupert," she sighed. "I've come back for you."

"I – I – I thought you were dead!" he said, voice breaking.

She raised her face and smiled up at him, shaking her head; disbelieving, he closed his arms round her and hugged her tightly, noticing without really doing so that she was cold, her skin whiter than ever, and so cold, so cold. She rubbed her cheek along his throat, allowing her hands to creep up to his shoulders. He closed his eyes, feeling nothing but the pliant softness of her skin as she rubbed against him like a cat. He didn't see it when her face changed, teeth suddenly sharp, eyes green, brows ridged. "Oh Rupert," she said again, voice breathless and soft, "I have something for you. You know I love you, don't you? Don't you want to be with me?"

Without opening his eyes, he nodded, ecstatic, not thinking about anything, only the wonder of her in his arms. She smiled then, features demonic, and opened her mouth, fangs catching the light. His body jerked against her when she bit down, stiffening with the sudden abrupt pain, but she held him tightly, hands clamped onto his shoulders, moaning with pleasure as she fed, feeling and tasting nothing but the thick, rich red blood, feeling his heart pound as it flowed. They sank onto the floor together.

At last she drew back, when he was near the brink, when she'd drunk as much as she could without killing him. His skin was white, lips and nails blue tinted, glasses askew, breath shallow. She lifted him from the floor, cradling his head in her lap, tracing his features with a gentle finger. She held her wrist up to her mouth and bit deeply, dispassionately watching her own blood flow, before lowering it to his mouth. "Drink of me, Rupert," she whispered, watching him swallow convulsively. His eyes snapped open and he grasped her arm, pulling her wrist tight against his mouth. Her eyes closed in almost sexual pleasure as she felt his lips move against her, felt her blood flow into him as he sucked greedily and thought of the life she was changing.

"What a gift Angelus has given me," she murmured, watching his face. "And now I give it to you." She smiled, thinking of the Slayer, of her gypsy family. The smile sharpened wickedly. "And when you are strong and rise again, we'll leave this place. Oh yes. There are some people I'd like to visit." She pulled her arm away from him then, pushing him back when he would have clung to her.

His eyes opened slowly and he stared up at her, eyes wide.

"Rest now," she crooned, stroking his face again. "And when you wake, we'll hunt and feed. And even the Slayer shall not stop us."