It starts with a small package in her pigeonhole at work. Plain brown paper, a couple of layers thick, sellotaped protectively. Jenny turns it in her hand a couple of times. Her name is scrawled in capitals across one of the larger flat sides, the college address underneath. Postal stamps indicate airmail.
Another teacher clears their throat behind her. Jenny plasters on a fake apologetic smile and moves out of their way as she's hogging the space. Grabbing her coffee, she commandeers the armchair in the corner, her coffee within arm's length because it's New York and it's fall and she gets cold. She misses Sunnydale's sun and warm climate.
Huffing, she turns her attention back to the package. She knows it's a book before she opens it, it's kind of obvious. She hasn't ordered anything; she's not expecting anything from any of her clan. Are they still her clan if they cast her out for falling in love?
She isn't that bothered by it; they don't give a damn about her, never did. She was their pawn. Watching Angel was a way to prove herself to them, they didn't care about her or what she wanted or why only that she was loyal to them. It was their way or the highway; throwing Rupert back in her face, dismissing the relationship as a dalliance. She hadn't spoken with any of them since. That was almost four years ago…
She shakes off the feeling as rain hits the window with enough force to drag her out of her thoughts and brings her attention back to the package in her hands. No one knows her here, anyone who does – colleagues, she doesn't have friends - would give her packages in person rather than mail them from another country.
Eying it, she considered her best course of action. Even mundane, innocuous packages can be dangerous in the wrong hands or sender. No one is paying attention to her but it's kind of public and wonders if she should wait till she's alone before unleashing whatever this is…just in case.
It's been four years and now she gets sensible.
She laughs quietly at herself, knowing she's getting eyeballed by a couple of colleagues. Because she's the sarcastic computer-sci lecturer who's friendly but no one knows anything about her. And she'd like to keep it that way.
Still.
She's still impulsive and curious and she's been in her own head long enough the ominous package gets the best of her. She'll take precautions; at the first sign of trouble, she will grab the lighter in her bag and break into the chem labs to search for an accelerant to destroy it.
She has a plan.
Jenny teased the corner of the sellotape, unwrapping it as carefully as possible. She works her finger along the sticky glue residue easing the brown paper away to reveal an ordinary-looking book. Pushing it out from the other end, she barely holds back her gasp as she recognises it.
The Forster book feels familiar in her hand. She remembers the weight of it as she drank tea and stayed up late to finish it in a weekend because she wanted to talk to Rupert about it the next time they saw each other. It's the book, the one he'd leant her.
But how…
Jenny looks around, half expecting, half hoping to find him watching her. She ducks her head to hide her disappointment when he's not there. He doesn't have her address and they haven't spoken a word since she left Sunnydale after Angelus attacked her.
Rupert had saved her, sort of.
Instead of leaving after they arranged to meet at his house later that evening, she'd heard him spin on his heel and come back to her.
"Do you need to finish up here?"
"Um, kind of, yeah," Jenny said, trying to hold back her secret until she was certain. It was one thing to get her hopes up, it was another to tell someone else and everyone ended up disappointed and back at square one. "The stuff I need is here," she tells him.
She doesn't want to put this off for another night. Delays were potential lives lost.
"It's just Angelus has been stepping up his attacks and being here after dark…" Rupert let his words hang between them. "He could come here looking for Buffy or any of us." His voice is soft and fearful. Jenny can see the toll it's taken on him. On Buffy. "Can't you, I mean, don't you have one of those portable computer…" he gestures vaguely as he searches for the right word. "Thingies."
She smiles at him. "Laptop." He rolls his eyes at the correction. But she'll give him credit, he does have a point. Public place, after dark, huge frickin' invite in Latin on the school plaque outside. She would be able to do this at home. Somewhere Angel's never been. "At my place…I mean you can come over if you want and we can talk."
She got that fluttery feeling in her stomach again, like she had when he invited her over. She knew she must have been giving the same look if his expression was anything to go by. "I'd like that."
Jenny started packing up, saving her work quickly and grabbing the disk to slip into her bag. With her bag shouldered, she remembered the Orb on her desk and picked it up.
"What's that?" Rupert enquired as they walked quickly through the school to the parking lot. Only their cars remained.
"Um, I'll show you everything at my place," Jenny promised, holding onto it tightly. She unlocked her door and set it and her bag in the back seat. Glancing up at the school, she saw an amber glow in her classroom, the flickers of fire, and the shadow moving around. "Rupert, get in the car," she told him, her eyes trained on her classroom.
He followed her gaze and blanched. Angelus.
"We need to go," Jenny reiterated. She got in and started the engine as he got into the passenger side. She hit the gas as soon as the doors were shut and her car squealed in protest as she tore out of the parking lot.
Rupert kept turning behind to see if Angelus was running after them. Her rearview wouldn't help her check for vampires following them. She drove as fast as she could, only slowing to take the corners so she didn't roll the car.
She pulled up to her building as close as she could. Rupert grabbed the Orb, she grabbed her bag and dug for her keys as they exited the car and together they ran for the entrance.
As soon as they were through the door, Jenny switched on every light in her apartment, closing blinds and curtains as she went. She refused to let Angelus watch them if he was outside. They were as safe as they could be. He wasn't invited here.
"Jenny."
She knows exactly what he's asking by the tone of his voice. Why. The. Fuck. Did. Angelus. Set. Fire. To. Your. Class. Room?
"I'm trying to translate the original curse," Jenny blurts out. That just seems to make things worse.
"You were working on this alone? At the school, after dark?" He's angry and looks like he's ready to throw something. Jenny really hopes it's not the box in his hand because they're screwed if they lose that orb.
"You said it couldn't be done," Rupert points out, his frustration surfacing.
"When has that ever stopped us before?" Jenny reminds him. That deflates his anger, his face softening slightly.
"Jenny, you were putting yourself at risk, without telling any of us," Giles removes his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"I get that you're angry, I do, and it's justified, but I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up if it didn't work."
"And if we hadn't left when we did, if you'd been alone if he'd killed you?"
"Whatcha got there, Jen?"
Jenny blinks and finds one of the older lit professors, Laura, sitting across from her with a cup of soup and some bread. Stuck in her thoughts, Jenny just blinks only registering that's the wrong reaction when Laura frowns at her.
"Huh?"
"Very articulate," Laura fires back. Jenny's lips twitch. She likes Laura for her sarcasm. She nods pointedly at the book in her hands.
"Oh." Jenny palms the book and lifts it for Laura to see from a distance; Jenny's grateful she's got her glasses on because she'd be asking to see it up close and Jenny is not letting her anywhere near with soup in her hand.
Laura's eyebrows shoot up in appreciation of the first edition. "Wow," she says, almost drooling.
"Very articulate," is the dry response from Jenny, earning herself a fond scowl.
"I'm very jealous, my dear," her older friend tells her. "For our queen of all things technical, I expected you to add to the enormous collection on your e-reader. I never thought you'd invest in such a gorgeous first edition. Wherever did you get it?"
Jenny blushes, tucking the book closer to her in her lap protectively. "Um, I'm not sure."
She has no idea why she's admitting this to the only teacher she would probably be quite good friends with if she was letting colleagues close enough to be friends these days. The kind who thinks Jenny is too young to live the spinster life.
"You're not sure?"
Jenny huffs, not really wanting to admit she hopes it's from someone and it turns out someone else sent it to her. "I found it in my pigeon hole, I haven't really had time to figure out who sent it or why as I haven't found a note."
"Oh," Laura says almost wistfully, reminding Jenny of an older version of Willow. But this isn't exactly the romance Laura is looking for. "But it's Forster. You don't have any clue?"
Laura latches onto Jenny's pause. "I can't be sure," Jenny tells her, figuring if she gives up a little, she won't have to give up more later. "I've read this book before."
Laura smiles, "I'd be offended if you hadn't read the story, so evocative and-"
"No," Jenny cuts her off, remembering her own description of the story. "I've read this edition, this book before. A friend lent it to me, years ago."
Jenny gives Laura credit for schooling her reaction. It's the most personal piece of information Jenny has given anyone since she started at NYU nearly three years ago. "A friend, huh?"
Jenny sighs. If it is Rupert, she doubts he's sending the book to her for that. "A really good friend, but we lost touch and he doesn't have my address."
"You sure he didn't google you? He sent it to your work; our pictures are on the website."
Jenny laughs, loud and foreign to her own ears, because it's been so long since she laughed and the idea of Rupert trying to find her on the internet is ridiculous. At Laura's expression, she sobers. "If you knew him, you'd know how far off base you are."
"Him?"
Jenny's mouth opens instinctively but she stops herself from saying more. She's learned to focus on her memories of their relationship rather than focus on how everything ended spectacularly between them.
"I don't know if it's from him," Jenny replies.
"What about that envelope?" Laura enquires, caught up in the romance of the mystery book.
Jenny looks closer at the book, realising that her memories distracted her from missing the off-white envelope tucked into the front cover. Jenny opens it, recognising Rupert's distinctive cursive, so different from the stark capitals of the address details on the packaging.
Feeling Laura's expectant gaze on her, Jenny tucks the envelope away. She needs privacy to open the letter. "It's probably from him," she says, ninety-nine percent sure.
Laura, as sarcastic and romantic and pushy as she is, realises now isn't the time. And that's what Jenny likes the most about her. She knows when to give people space.
"An old friend who sends you Forster," the lit professor mumbles with a shrug. "Enjoy, my dear, let me know how it turns out."
Jenny rolls her eyes because this isn't the romance Laura is hoping for. Jenny looks down at her lap, realising she's been hugging the book to her, close enough to smell it. Inhaling softly, Jenny gets a whiff of Earl Grey and the aftershave she remembers Rupert wore as though he'd just finished reading it before he wrapped it.
Her mind conjures up a rare rainy afternoon, cuddled up with Rupert on his couch. He'd been reading to her and she'd fallen asleep listening to the smooth cadence of his voice. Waking a short while later, Rupert was still reading aloud. Jenny had been unable to put into words how safe and loved he made her feel so she'd shown him instead. They'd spent the rest of the afternoon making love right there on his couch.
"Honestly, what is it about them that bothers you so much?" Her question is genuine. They've moved past the animosity that featured heavily in their initial interactions.
After working with him to stop Moloch, she did some thinking. She's never met anyone with the same level of knowledge of the occult that he does. She'd spied his collection when they were doing the scanning project but she was too busy arguing with him to ask him about it. And now, she's ready to corner him to tap him for whatever he knows.
There's one thing holding her back.
She can't fathom his apprehension or the abject terror in his entire being whenever he is in the presence of computers. He's intelligent and not as small-minded as she first thought, so she doubts his reticence has anything to do with his capability of learning how to use one. That means there's another reason and she's curious.
"The smell."
Well, she wasn't expecting that. "Computers don't smell, Rupert," she reminds him quietly.
"I know!" He exclaims, stepping further into the classroom. Moving through the rows of computers, he contemplates them as Jenny follows him with her eyes. "Smell is the most powerful trigger to the memory there is. A certain flower or a, a whiff of smoke can bring up experiences..." Jenny can only stare at the wistful expression on his face. "Long forgotten. Books smell. Musty and, and, and, and rich."
Rupert sighs, concluding, "The knowledge gained from a computer, is, uh, it... it has no, no texture, no, no context. It's, it's there and then it's gone. If it's to last, then, then the getting of knowledge should be, uh, tangible, it should be, um... smelly."
Flabbergasted, Jenny tries to swallow her surprise at how his thought process worked. "Well! You really are an old-fashioned boy, aren't you?"