They leave the thrum of noise behind the further they walk away from the Bronze. The children stayed to enjoy the rest of their night while the adults bowed out after a dozen dances.

Yes, Jenny had pulled him up to dance.

Because, one, she wasn't not dancing and, two, she wasn't dancing with students on her own.

She had told Rupert that as soon as he tried to make camp on the sofa under the stairs. He'd had the audacity to look to Buffy to help. The young girl laughed in his face and pulled on his other arm to urge him up onto the dance floor. If the Slayer was celebrating, the Watcher was as well.

"I'm getting old," Jenny grumbles as she walks beside him. She creaks her neck and massages it one-handed. "There was a time when I would still be on the dance floor."

Rupert looks at her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she expects him to respond and how she expects him to respond. Given their history, this could be a trap for an argument. It is where they're most comfortable but he's fought enough this evening.

Besides, she was the one who wanted to leave. He wouldn't let her walk home alone.

Despite feeling fairly confident the vampires would retreat this evening, Rupert couldn't take the risk.

"I blame my shoes." Jenny glares down at the offending accessories. Rupert follows her glare to the chunky shoes she wore to work. "They're not dancing shoes."

He huffs out a laugh when she looks up with a wide tired smile. They walk a few steps and he casually offers her his arm. Jenny is momentarily taken aback but accepts it by tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.

"I wanted to thank you," he starts.

"For what?"

"For helping tonight, after I was terse with you," Rupert explains. "I wasn't thinking and I shouldn't have been short with you."

Jenny sighs, bumping his shoulder. "It's fine, you explained everything tonight. And given what I know now, your mood was justified."

"So was yours," he responds, thinking back to her reaction and telling him off for his sharp orders.

"Well, yeah," she drawls sarcastically.

"Still, you didn't need to, I mean, tonight…" Why can't he get his words out?

"What part of tonight are you referring to? The part where I held your head in my lap after Buffy knocked you out, or when we were fighting the big monster that burst through the library floor and the vampires climbing through the windows and doors?"

He thinks for a moment. "All of it."

"I'm pretty sure I was fighting for my life, too. I wouldn't have stood a chance on my own," she dismisses her actions. She cocks her head to the side, thinking of something. "Everything else about this town makes so much more sense now," she pauses, giving him a once over as something occurs to her. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you told me, but aren't the other Watchers going to be pissed that your secret's out?"

"Not if they don't find out," Rupert concedes. "Sometimes they're blinkered about how aware others are outside of the Council. Like yourself, for example, they rarely acknowledge people who are independent experts."

"That's a shocker," Jenny deadpans.

"Personally, I am of the mind that the Council is wrong," he informs her apologetically, hoping to endear her and set himself apart from his colleagues at the Council. "It's a rather isolating duty, yet I can think of many incidents in the last six months where we needed the help of others that the Council simply doesn't provide."

"Well, I'm not going to tell them, if you won't."

They turn the corner and enter a residential area. They walk silently for a few minutes.

"What are your plans for summer?"

"Oh, I've got to visit some family and then I'm going to the Burning Man festival in Nevada before coming back to Sunnydale," Jenny replies as she walks into her room. "What about you? Do you have to stay here or are you going back to England?"

"I'll remain here for the summer," Rupert replies, unbothered by the prospect. "Someone needs to watch over the Hellmouth while Buffy is gone."

Jenny pulls a face. "So that means you'll have to live vicariously through my postcards then," she says instead. She ignores his raised eyebrows and continues, "It would be so much easier if you had an email address, I'd be able to send you photos too."

"Postcards?" He echoes while rolling his eyes at the word email.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need your address because I can't send them to the school," she comments as she gestures towards a block of flats at the end of the road. "I'm in there."

She eyes him. "How's your head anyway? Buffy packs quite a punch."

"Until I had to combat the pulsating speakers to think, I'd forgotten about my headache," he confesses. "I'll be fine, I don't think I have a concussion."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

Jenny turns onto the path that leads between the apartment buildings. She changes the subject. "So, what's your take on tonight? Did we avert or fulfil a prophecy?"

"Um, huh." Her question stumps him as he thinks through the events. "Well,-."

"Articulate," she quips.

"I do try," he counters. Jenny pulls a face. "The prophecy was Buffy would die and the Master would rise. That happened."

"I'll give you that," Jenny says turning another corner to her personal entrance. She sits on the small bench outside her door and her arm dislodges to allow her to pull Rupert down to sit beside her. He doesn't argue. "But what about the rest? The Master died and the Hellmouth scurried back into its hole. Does that mean it false prophecy?"

"I believe they embellished," he settles for, not wanting to discuss anything at length tonight.

"I believe you're sitting on the fence."

Since discovering their shared interests, they have spoken several times about demons, spells, and magical theory. Though their research methods differ, Jenny is widely read on a lot of the same subjects as he is and offers insightful observations. He hasn't met anyone like her in a long time. Someone to talk to without expectation and simply enjoy the conversation. However, she does approach the occult in an explorative, respectful manner compared to those he once knew. She knows the rules and edges the line between awe and respect very well. She understands the consequences if she doesn't.

That doesn't mean Jenny isn't passionate. On the contrary, she gets riled up as she volleys answers and questions at him in the same breath. Her gestures border on manic in these instances as her self-awareness falls away in these moments and he is left enthralled. Like when they had danced less than an hour ago. She swayed effortlessly with the music; her movements enchanting while she urged him to move with her.

Then, there's moments like this. When they're quiet, neither of them feels the need to fill the companionable silence.

He looks up at the clear sky and stars. He turns his head when he senses her watching him. He can't quite read her, or, rather, doesn't believe he is reading her correctly.

"I should probably let you get in," Rupert tells her.

Jenny offers him a kind smile as she nods. "Yeah," she sighs.

There's so much in that sigh that he wants to ask. He does. "What?"

"Some night, huh?" She blushes. "I don't think I'm going to get any sleep."

Rupert knows that feeling so well. He doesn't think he'll be falling asleep any time soon. "We could sit here for a while."

"I'd like that."

Jenny is still curled around his arm and they listen to the stillness of the night. It's odd, despite the mystical convergence, that the town is peaceful at night no matter what happened this evening. No one bats an eye at the strange events that occur, as though the town population is under an unspoken en masse denial that they happen at all. Rupert isn't sure whether to be relieved or concerned that no one seems to care and he and Buffy can skirt attention from those outside of her circle of friends. Jenny is the exception, of course.

"You know, before I met you, my experience in the field was like seventy per cent theoretical," Jenny muses.

"And now?"

"I think it's only about sixty-two per cent theory," she says with a smile. "And you don't need to thank me, I'm glad I could help in some small way."

Rupert hears her sincerity and isn't quite sure what to make of her easy acceptance of his double life. Yet, he can't bring himself to give voice to the warning in the back of his head, if only for selfish reasons. He likes sharing this with someone, a confidant. Jenny is someone he can speak with and he doesn't have to think of excuses or lies for the chaos in his life. He doesn't need to hide or be anyone else, only himself.

Not for the first does he find himself following Buffy's example.

He wants a friend in this secular life.

"What are you going to do about the library?"

Rupert looks over at her, confused for a second before he remembers the skeleton draped across the broken table. He can't let it be discovered. A skeleton will bring scrutiny they can't escape, not even in this town. "I'll secure the bones tomorrow, find a ward to keep them safe."

"I don't leave till the end of next week if you need any help."

"I wouldn't want to impose," he replies kindly. Despite his thoughts moments ago, he doesn't want to monopolise her time.

"Well, I have to get my car and clear the displays in the computer lab, so I am around," Jenny offers. "Snyder is rearranging it after what happened with Moloch, Dave, and Fritz, so the desk cubicles are going."

"I'll head to the library tomorrow," he says. "Or later today." Her lip twitches. "I mean, I think it'll take more than one day to secure the books I can't leave unattended in the library while repairs are taking place, so I will probably be there on Monday as well."

She bobs her head. "I should let you go, thanks for walking me home."

She looks indecisive before leaning in and brushing her lips against his cheek. She pulls back and their eyes meet, looking as surprised as he feels. She blushes and her eyes drop to his lips before she resolutely stands. He stands with her, taking half a step to follow her as she fishes her keys from her purse.

Jenny spins at the door, her back against it, to face him. For a minute, he thinks she might invite him in. He isn't sure if it's the right thing to do or if he can say no if she does.

Then, she sighs before whispering, "Goodnight, Rupert."

Rupert nods, blinking out of his reverie. "Goodnight, Jenny."