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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry to everyone who wrote the first incarnation of this chapter. I posted, had regrets and then took it down an hour later. This chapter was completely rewritten, so if you did read it the first time, please give it another look.

Thanks to Puddinhead for her awesome beta skillz. Thanks for Dorian's Kitten and Science who gave needed feedback to improve this chapter immensely.
Dav sprinkled salt into the massive crock pot full of turkey stew she'd prepared for dinner. After everyone left, went to bed, or entered into a conversation they didn't want her to hear, there seemed to be nothing left to do but cook. The stew wasn't fancy, but the meal would probably last a little while. At least she might be able to serve it for lunch, too. Her pantry would be emptier than an East St. Louis strip mall in a few days if she had to keep hosting the gang, so it was important to make food stretch.

She washed up in the silver sink, watching the bubbles slip off her hands. Dav thought about the discussion she'd snuck down the hall to eavesdrop upon, like a kid sneaking around after bedtime to hear the grown-ups talk. Rupert and Joyce had been drinking from his flask.

"What are our options? I mean, besides bad," Joyce asked.

"The Watcher's Council has operatives all over the world, including the highest echelons of the U.S. Government. Their resources could be utilitzed to help Faith. If it comes down to it, they would offer Buffy and yourself a safe haven in England."

"For a price."

"Naturally. It's up to the two of you, but I would go with you to act as an intermediary. I'm not an employee of the council anymore, but I know how they operate."

When she heard him say that, Dav scurried back into the kitchen. She tried to ignore the lump in her throat as the clear water ran down the drain. Someone reached around her and shut off the tap. Startled, she looked up and saw Rupert smiling at her. He gripped the counter on either side of her, so she was essentially caught.

"You've been standing here for five minutes. I counted it off on your cow clock."

The clock he referred to had a picture of a bored-looking Holstein floating on a white and blue tassellated background. It didn't match with anything else, but she'd never bothered to buy a new one.

"Um, that was here when I moved in."

He handed her a red and white checked dish towel and Dav took it, bumping his hand away with her hip as she slid along the counter. She had to move away from him—he was just too close. When Dav finished drying her hands, she stuffed the towel over the handle of the stove and snagged the apple-scented lotion from beside the sink. She squeezed a dab into her palm, set the tube down and kneaded the moisturizer into her skin. He gently took her by the wrist and began rubbing the cream into the back of her hand. Somehow it felt better than the professional, full-body massage she'd gotten for herself as a birthday treat. A happy, little moan snuck out of her mouth.

"Ohh," she whimpered, before she realized her lashes were sinking. "What are you doing?"

"Helping?" he asked, his eyebrows rising along with the edges of his lips.

"We need to talk."

She slipped her hand out of his, turned around and led him to her bedroom. Once she insured them some measure of privacy, Dav decided to ask the question that had become a gnawing ache in her stomach.

"Did you kill Angel?" Dav whispered. All of Rupert's mirth drained away. His forehead was a craggy precipice and his mouth was pulled tight like a drawstring.

"I destroyed him, yes. Was it that obvious?"

"To me, yeah, but I don't think any of the others noticed. Did he attack you?"

"No. I daresay he was friendly and rather kind. He offered me a drink and a comfortable chair before I stabbed him in the back. "

Dav sank down on her bed and rested her face in her hands. A second later the mattress crunched with his weight and she felt his touch on her back.

"It's like I don't know you, Rupert."

"Davinia, please listen to me before you decide to...dismiss me from your life. I'm still not sure my choice was right, but I don't regret he's gone. Angel was not just a threat to Buffy, but to all of us."

"He was helping us."

"Yes, but for how long? According to Ms. Avenolie's research, the pull of the blood bond between Angel and Buffy would only increase."

"That doesn't mean he would turn into Angelus again. Maybe he'd have left on his own if he understood the danger."

He flinched and took his glasses off.

"Perhaps. However, he knew about his curse and his past, yet he continually tempted fate when it came to Buffy. His behavior towards her was obsessive; having her followed. Having you followed."

Davinia brought her knees to her chest, compressing herself into a ball, desperate to create distance between them. Suddenly, brushing against his leg seemed tantamount to sharing his guilt.

"Please tell me it wasn't about that."

Rupert's shoulders dropped as he exhaled. He polished his glasses on the hem of his ugly, gold shirt and then stuck them back on.

"If it was?"

"Oh God."

"We're talking about a creature you were terrified of allowing into your home."

"Yes, but Buffy loved him. Are you going to keep this from her for the rest of her life?" Dav noticed her hands were shaking, and so did Rupert. He reached to calm her.

"Davinia—"

She withdrew from him further, hiding her fist in her lap. He moved closer anyway.

"Davinia, trust me when I say no one knew him as I did."

"How can I trust you?"

"Yes, that's the heart of this, isn't it?" he asked, his eyes moving as he gazed at her. "Did Xander ever explain what Angelus did to Jenny's body after he broke her neck?" His words were barely perceptible in the quiet room.

"No, it was too much for him, I think. He only told me the basics."

"Angelus carried her to my house and posed her corpse in my bed. He set a scene downstairs with two glasses of wine. There was a trail of rose petals going up the steps with little candles. You can imagine what I thought. Then to find her like that. I dream of it nearly every night. Except after you told me about his visit, your face replaced Jenny's."

Dav couldn't respond; she felt cold and heavy inside, like she was slowly turning to stone.

"When he was torturing me, he told me all the things he wished he'd gotten to do to Jenny before he'd killed her. In my nightmares, he succeeds in that purpose with you."

"He tortured you? Like literal torture?"

"You're surprised?"

She nodded yes. The idea seemed so foreign to her. Before she met Xander and his friends, torture was almost a joke in her world—a way to describe reading, 'The Fountainhead.' There were treaties and conventions prohibiting its use. Torturing people was supposed to be a barbaric practice that died with the Middle Ages.

"What did he do?" Dav asked, uncurling from her guarded position and inching closer to Rupert.

"I suppose I was lucky he hadn't time to prepare for our session. He'd spoken of dismembering me with a chainsaw, but all he had on hand was a plastic bag, a box of straight pins and a lighter. He started by covering my face with the bag but stopped short before I blacked out."

Dav made a strangled, "Gah," and was compelled to enclose him in her arms. The thought of anyone suffering in such away, especially Rupert, brought out her protective side. He was stiff at first but then settled against her. Davinia stroked his hair and felt his voice rumbling through her chest as she held him close.

"When he tired of that, Angelus took my shoes and socks off. Shoved needles beneath the nails then heated them up. The metal acted as a conductor, of course, and the pain was excruciating. It felt like my flesh was burning. Angelus was very particular about not leaving marks, though. He wanted the others to know how easily I capitulated to his demands. All the while he was talking about how he planned on killing the children. He wanted Buffy to choose who died first. The psychological aspect was as much a pleasure for him as the violence, I suppose. He enjoyed hurting me a great deal on both fronts."

"God, baby, how can you be so calm talking about that?"

"I'm English?"

She snorted and the hard plane of his jaw softened against the crook of her neck.

"There are volumes on how he tormented his victims; violations one dares not speak aloud. I ignored my instincts once and had faith he'd be able to keep himself in check. Because of my naivete, I lost Jenny. Horribly. I wouldn't recover if the same happened to you."

He leaned back in her loose arms and put his warm hands on either side of her face, as though cupping the bloom of a sunflower. Rupert was seeking a reassurance she didn't know if she could give.

"I love you, Davinia."

She wasn't sure how to respond and his eyes dimmed. Dav was about to tell him she understood when Rupert pulled her into a kiss. His tongue parted her lips and began doing coarse, thrilling things inside her mouth. Rupert grabbed her breasts and molded the soft flesh, pinching the tips through the material covering them. She slipped her hand under his shirt and ran her fingers over the smattering of hair on his chest. When she got to his nipples, Dav used the same amount of intensity he had on her. The mewling sound he made was its own reward until Rupert grabbed her wrists and stopped her from touching him. Before she could protest, her fluttery, green top was whipping over her head. In the next instant he had her flat on her back.

"Hey, slow down," Dav said as Rupert wrenched open the fly of her jeans.

"Don't you want me?" he asked, looking up from his task without a change of expression.

"I do—"

He lifted her lower half effortlessly and yanked her jeans down her thighs, dragging her panties with them before she could qualify her consent. Dav felt awkward in nothing but her black, lace bra while he was still fully dressed. Rupert opened her legs firmly with the palms of his hands and looked at her. The room was bright with sunlight and she was suddenly shy under his appraisal. She brought her knees up to her chest and turned her face against the pillow, but she didn't tell him to stop.

"Could you love a man like me, knowing what's been done to me and what I've done in kind?" he asked, his eyes obscured by the glare on his eyeglass lenses.

He was only sitting on his heels but he seemed to be towering over her. The fingertips of his hand coasted over the slickness that had dripped over her labia. He stuck his fingers into her ragged slit. She bucked up from the bed and whimpered.

"You're so wet, Davinia," he whispered. Rupert was the only person who ever used her full name. She loved the way he said it like the words belonged to him. He massaged her g-spot and ground her clitoris in circles while she shook beneath him. She scrambled to find something to hold onto and ended up with a fistfull of rumpled, purple sheet.

"Look at me. Don't hide from me," he said. Dav acquiesced to his demand by tilting her head. His silk shirt clung to his torso and the roots of his hair were dark with sweat. There was fine stubble on his cheeks and he was breathing hard. Seeing him that way, overly hot and straining to please her, made her open her legs wider and lick her lips.

He wore dirty very well.

Rupert took a condom out of his trouser pocket and she wasn't sure if she should be relieved or angry that he'd assumed she'd give in so easily. One-handed, he unfastened his zipper and brought out his penis. There was a disconnect between her mind and voice as she watched him tear the foil packet—she wanted to slow down but the words couldn't break free. Rupert took his wonderful fingers away and used both hands to roll out the condom over his erection. He was going to keep all his clothes on, denying her the intimacy of his flesh on hers. She sat up to undress him, but he pressed her shoulders down until she was supine. Rupert crawled over her without actually letting their bodies meet. When she sought to touch him he held her arms above her head with one of his hands. He was poised on top of her like a string strung over the neck of a guitar. Their only point of contact was where he pinned her down. He looked down at her with a mixture of awe and despair as he guided his cock into the clutching heat of her pussy with his free hand.

The question he'd asked hung over them as he thrust into her. His lips were suspended out of her reach, so she arched her back trying to get closer to him. He responded by grabbing the tail of her french braid and wrapping it around his hand. He dragged his sharp tongue along her elongated throat. Then he sunk his teeth in and she let out a moan that had to have roused someone in her overcrowded apartment. The first bite led to another and another until she wore a choker of ruby-red hickies. She'd never come from vaginal intercourse alone before; when the orgasm finally engulfed her it was the most intense of her life. Dav couldn't control the sounds she was making and she would have been flailing if Rupert hadn't been holding her so tightly. A smug smile spread over his face and he pounded into her. His equivocal mask broke when he came and for just a second, he seemed absolutely blissful. When it was over he opened his eyes. They blinked at each other, like two people adjusting to the light. Timidly, he unthreaded his fingers from her hair and released her wrists. She enveloped him in her arms and kissed his still-gasping mouth. They moved slowly and gently, as though becoming reacquainted with one another after a long absence. Their lips broke apart with a soft smack and he eased his penis out of her.

He looked at her shamefaced as he took off the condom, propped himself up on his arms and tucked it in the garbage can by her bed. Rupert reached across her and grabbed a corner of the comforter, draping it over them. Neither spoke as their breathing evened out. Dav touched his face.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes. I'm fine."

"Should we...do you want to talk about all this?"

He let out a sad chuckle, unhooked his glasses from his ears and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I think I've said quite enough tonight, don't you?"

"But, you can't close up on me now, not after what we just did."

"What did we just do?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Do you love me or were you just letting me fuck you because it's what we both needed?"

"Why are you acting this way?"

"Because it's plain to me that I've only got you on lend until you can be shot of your houseguests."

Dav jerked her hand away and flopped over. She wasn't certain, but 'on lend,' sounded like 'slut,' in librarian-speak. Dav clutched the blanket fiercely, not caring that he was half uncovered.

"You're the one who's talking about leaving, Rupert, and you shooed me out of the room to discuss it with Joyce like I was a little kid."

"Perhaps I couldn't bear having an audience should I ask you to come with me, because I'm fairly certain you would refuse."

The truth struck her dumb. He was absolutely right. There was no way she could leave her jobs and her parents to live in another country with a man she'd had sex with twice; a much older man with a dangerous life that had forced him to do terrible things.

He shifted on the creaky bed, then smoothed the coverlet away. Dav craned her neck and watched him kiss her naked shoulder.

"You needn't worry, Davinia," he said, his green eyes focusing on hers for a flash before he lowered them, "I would be a fool to push you to live with me when you can't even tell me what this means to you." He rubbed her breast and she shuddered. "Just now that wasn't me asking you to come with us, so your silence couldn't possibly be your way of saying no." She felt his touch skating across her stomach and then his fingers wedged between her upper thighs. He teased her clit with three strong taps. "If this is all you'll allow me, then I'll take it until you tell me to stop."

"Please don't stop."





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