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The bar was loud, its walls entirely covered in posters. It was the sort of place Jenny would have loved, four years ago. The sort of place where she would’ve hooked up with someone in the bathroom, the air thick with urine and stale beer.
Somehow, she’d stopped enjoying places like this after vampires and demons had become a normal part of her life.
Jenny had discovered the bar a few months ago, desperate to find a place to unwind where the kids wouldn’t run into her. Or Rupert. Not that she was thinking about him.
None of them would ever go here, with the punk music blasting and with the mysteriously stained furniture. Perhaps Xander would like it, Jenny mused, although she doubted that he would ever find it, hidden away in an alley as it was.
Jenny sank onto a barstool and flagged down the bartender. The bar was sticky, old liquor fused into the surface. Having once been a frequent customer at these kinds of establishments, Jenny wouldn’t be surprised if there was some residual puke there as well.
The bartender slid her shot of vodka over to her. She downed it, revelling in the slight burn as it slid down her throat, before ordering a whiskey. She had every intent to get thoroughly drunk tonight.
For a brief moment, Jenny tried to imagine Rupert’s reaction if she brought him here. He would have pulled a face, complaining about the loud music, and then Jenny would have called him a snob. In an attempt to defend himself, he would have made some comment about dive bars in London during the seventies. She would have kissed him to shut him up.
Jenny forced the image from her mind. She was here to avoid him, not think about him.
She had assumed things would be great between them this year. They wouldn’t have to spend most of their time at the high school. The kids were in college, so they would not interrupt them. It would just be Jenny and Rupert, doing whatever they wanted.
And it had been wonderful, for a while. Their sex life had been amazing, they had started a new research project, and she had even managed to convince him to go out dancing with her. But as time passed, it became obvious Rupert didn’t know what to do without his duty.
She’d tried to be understanding, at first. But she could only say ‘of course you’re not useless, you are still very important to Buffy’ so many times before it became grating. This was supposed to be their time, yet he couldn’t stop feeling sorry for himself that the kids were growing up.
Jenny tried not to think too deeply about the implications behind that.
She took a swig of her whiskey, hoping to cleanse herself of those thoughts. Tonight was for her, a moment away from the increasingly tense relationship between Rupert and the kids. And here, no one would interrupt her.
“Jenny!” a familiar, bright voice called. Anya stood a few feet away from her, smiling excitedly.
“Anya. I didn’t expect to see you here,” Jenny said, trying not to sound as annoyed as she felt.
She didn’t have anything against Anya, per se; it was more that she barely knew the girl. The few times Jenny had talked to her, the conversation had revolved around her sex life with Xander. Learning about her former student’s activities in the bedroom was not exactly Jenny’s idea of a fun time.
“This is the only bar that will serve me alcohol without an ID,” she answered petulantly. “I am a thousand years old, you’d think that qualifies me to buy a beer.”
The former demon sank down on the chair next to her. Jenny had to fight the urge to groan. But then again, she doubted Anya was the kind of person to take that the wrong way, considering she had once ordered Rupert out of his own apartment to talk to Xander.
“Did you want to be alone?” Anya earnestly asked, possibly having seen Jenny’s facial expression.
“No, I’d love to share a drink with my former student’s girlfriend,” Jenny said sarcastically.
“Great!” Anya shot her a big smile, looking very pleased with herself.
Anya ordered a drink, something fruity with an overly complicated name, while Jenny tried to think of something to say. Anya was interesting when she wasn’t talking about Xander. The only problem was figuring out how to avoid the topic.
Anya beat her to the punch.
“What are you doing here, drinking alone?” Anya asked with her usual lack of tact once she had gotten her drink. “I’m avoiding Xander,” she added as an afterthought.
That Jenny could work with.
“Ironically, I’m avoiding Rupert.”
“Is he also being sensitive?” Anya said it with a sagely air, as if it was perfectly normal to avoid one’s boyfriend’s emotional problems. Although calling Rupert sensitive would be minimizing the issue. Self-hate spiral is what Jenny would have called it.
If Jenny were a better person, she’d be with him right now. Calm him down, remind him of his good qualities. But it was starting to feel like a one-man job. Then she’d remember that she had not once brought up her concerns to Rupert, guilt settling heavy in her stomach.
Today had been one of those days.
“Something like that,” Jenny eventually said, not without a hint of bitterness.
“Xander’s been talking about how no one needs him anymore now that they are all ‘college people’ when we could be having loads of orgasms.”
So much for avoiding sex talk, Jenny thought.
“Yeah, same thing is going on with Rupert.” Jenny downed her glass of whiskey after she said it, trying to burn away the mental image that “Xander” and “orgasm” had conjured together.
She shifted on the barstool, suddenly desperate to steer the conversation in another direction. She did not want to know about Xander, nor did she want to think about Rupert. All she wanted was to be so drunk that the rest of the world faded away into pleasant background noise.
Once again, Jenny flagged down the bartender for another drink. The former demon seemed comfortable in her spot, and Jenny needed whatever strength she could get.
“Do you ever feel like he doesn’t listen to you?” Anya’s voice cut through the music.
With her third drink heavy in her hand, Jenny felt more prepared for Anya’s invasive question this time around.
“All the time,” she said, laughing. Although, in Rupert’s defense, Jenny wasn’t exactly always forthcoming about what she wanted, preferring instead to hide behind barbs.
“I used to punish men like Xander,” Anya said casually. Jenny had heard the stories, and her mind couldn’t help but fill in the blanks that ‘punish’ left.
“I used to never let men like Rupert close to me,” Jenny answered, choosing to ignore the implications behind Anya’s statement.
Anya grinned at her, a wide, crooked thing. Nothing like the polished smiles Jenny used to see in the corridors of Sunnydale High, tight with the kind of insecurity only teenagers seemed to master. It made Jenny appreciate her all the more.
Five drinks down, and Jenny’s world was slowly becoming fuzzy, her mind placated. And, despite herself, she found that she quite enjoyed Anya’s company. Sure, she said odd things at times. But Jenny used to do that as well, before she trained herself out of it.
“He acts like I don’t know anything sometimes. I mean, sure, I don’t understand why I have to smile in some situations and not in others, but I’ve been alive for a thousand years! I know a lot of things! Not that he ever bothers to ask me about that,” Anya said, the conversation having turned to their respective partners once more.
“Rupert’s the same. I grew up around magic, just as he did! Just cause I didn’t learn it through a stupid institution doesn’t make me less knowledgeable.” The whiskey loosened her tongue, allowing the words to flow through her in a way Jenny never let them otherwise.
“Oh, I know about your family. The soul curse is pretty famous in vengeance demon circles.” The former demon said it matter-of-factly, not noticing the impact it had on Jenny.
Shame—hot and ugly—pushed to the surface.
“You don’t know anything about my family.” It came out softer than she intended. She rarely let her mind wander there, towards them. It was too painful—too recent.
Anya’s eyebrows scrunched up, studying her with focused eyes. “It’s a compliment.”
Jenny searched her face for mockery—anything familiar. There was none.
“Really?” Jenny finally asked, more surprised than she cared to admit. She should have apologised and explained herself. Yet some habits were hard to break.
Anya nodded. “Mhm. You know, I still have a few contacts in the demon business. I could probably put in a good word for you if you ever wanted to try it out.”
“Thanks, but I’m kinda done with the whole vengeance thing.” She took another sip of her whiskey, swaying slightly to the music. It made her restless, the alcohol, as she had been as a teenager. She missed that freedom, just a little.
“Why?” Anya cocked her head, looking at her with a questioning glance. It managed to pierce through the fog that had infiltrated Jenny’s mind. The question bounced around in her head, entering all the spaces she usually tried to ignore.
“It was never really my thing, I guess,” was the answer she landed on.
“It was my thing,” Anya began, slurring her words slightly. “I was very good at it.”
Based on the stories Jenny had heard, she did not doubt her. “I was not good at it,” Jenny laughed. “I cared more about living my own life than guarding others. Barely even bothered to uphold the curse.”
Under normal circumstances, particularly if those circumstances involved Buffy, Jenny would never have laughed at her failure with Angelus. Now, with Anya, it felt distant, like it had happened to someone else. It was just a funny little anecdote to share with an agent of vengeance.
“I think I was better at being vengeance demon than I am at being human.” Anya said it with a melancholy air. It sounded resigned—like it was already decided. Jenny refused to stand for it.
“That’s bullshit. You’re a great human.” She clasped the former demon’s shoulder as she said it, looking deep into her eyes. Jenny felt a sudden urge to let Anya know that she was enough, would always be enough.
That was another thought that Jenny preferred not to think too deeply about.
“Xander doesn’t think so.” Anya shrugged, a defeated expression on her face. It did not fit with the confident woman Jenny imagined her to be.
“Why not?” She didn’t even need to fake her outrage.
“He’s always saying that I should be less honest, for one. But if I think something, why shouldn’t I say it?”
No part of Jenny could relate to the statement. Lying had been second nature to her since childhood, always having to hide a part of herself. Whether it was her background, her parents, or her name, they would all have painted Jenny as other. All she had wanted was to belong.
Even now, Jenny still found herself lying about fundamental aspects of her life. Rupert had asked her once how her family had celebrated Christmas, and Jenny had—without thinking about it—said something stupid about how they used to eat porridge and open presents in the evening. Foreign enough to be interesting, but not too foreign that others would judge her. It had taken her a second to remember that she should not lie to her boyfriend.
Perhaps that's part of the reason they were struggling now, stuck in close quarters as they were. Depressive spirals and compulsive lying were not an intuitive combination.
Jenny would not let Anya make the same mistakes she had.
“I think honesty is a good thing,” Jenny said, making sure to squeeze Anya’s hand. God knew the last three years of Jenny’s life would have been easier had she just been honest.
“Xander doesn’t think so,” the former demon mumbled, so quietly that she almost didn’t hear her.
Complicated feelings arose within Jenny. Anger that Xander had made Jenny feel that way. Understanding, since—despite having actively molded herself into an independent person—the cold shoulder Rupert had given her two years ago still made Jenny question her own goodness.
“Then he’s an idiot.”
Anya’s eyes cleared, something sharper settling in them.
“Don’t call him that.” Her voice was defensive.
Jenny hesitated. “He’s acting like one, though.”
Another second passed, with Jenny staring intently at one of the posters behind the bar. When she looked back at Anya, some of the sharpness had faded away.
“But I’ll murder him for you,” Jenny finally dared to add.
“It’s not just Xander.” It almost sounded like Anya tried to brush it off, yet there was a layer of truth to it. None of them—Jenny included—ever bothered to listen to Anya, and when they did, they only ever commented on her lack of tact.
“Then I’ll be better in the future.”
“I’ll be better to you as well,” Anya answered, smiling widely.
It took Jenny a second to realise what she meant. She was included, was she not? Except there was always a trepidation, a knowledge that she was not one of them, not really. She was Rupert’s girlfriend, and while he generally took note of her input, the same could not be said for the rest of the scoobies. In the end, she was not their friend. At best, they saw her as a mentor; at worst, just Rupert’s girlfriend. None of those are guaranteed a spot in the in-group.
Instead, Jenny hovered at the edges. Just like Anya. But where Anya would interrupt whenever she wanted, Jenny kept quiet.
Jenny raised her glass in a mock cheers, a signal of her gratitude. Perhaps she could learn something from her, this strange and funny girl. To be more honest, to take up space.
She downed the remainder of her sixth glass of whiskey.
Jenny stumbled up the stairs, undressing as she went. The world tilted every time she thought she’d found her balance.
Once upstairs, Jenny took note of the lump underneath the sheets. Rupert’s chest rose slowly, shifting the blankets with each breath. Quietly—or as quietly as she could manage, Jenny stripped down to only her underwear, grabbing one of Rupert’s T-shirts on her way to the bed.
With the T-shirt on, she crawled up next to him and pressed a sloppy kiss to his jaw. She had intended to give him a proper kiss, but her perspective kept shifting, making precision impossible.
“Jenny?” He murmured, voice still thick with sleep.
“Mhm,” she mumbled against his skin. Jenny kissed him again, and this time she did not miss her target. Rupert pulled back slightly, regarding her with bleary eyes.
“Are you drunk?” He asked, bewildered.
“A bit.” She did not bother to elaborate.
Jenny settled against him, her body fitting against his. She could hear his heartbeat, steady and grounding.
For a moment, she considered telling him.
About Anya. About what she had said—about the curse, about her family. About all the things Jenny still skirted around, even now. The words sat heavy on her tongue.
Then she let them go.
“We are going out tomorrow. Dinner,” Jenny said instead.
A pause followed before he answered: “We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”
Anya would have said it again. Asked why he didn’t answer. Jenny was content with a non-answer for now. Still, one issue burned in the back of her head.
“And you need to be nicer to Anya.”
Her boyfriend mumbled his affirmative, almost asleep again.
Jenny thought back to her meeting with Anya, about how similar they were, despite it all. Before they had parted ways, the former demon had asked her: “Are you happy?”
At that point, Jenny had been swaying, the whiskey clouding her brain. No answer had been apparent; different scenarios running through her head instead. But now, lying next to Rupert, breathing in his scent, she knew. It wasn’t easy, and some pieces were still missing—but at the end of the day, she was happy. Through the good and the bad.
Still, she’d make sure he left the house more.