Chapter Twenty-One

Back in the factory, she felt stupidly safer, like an animal gone to ground, like an ostrich with its head buried in the sand. They could follow them here if they wished, she knew. And yet, she felt safer here. It was home, dark and close and comforting.

Ripper was in a rage. As she approached, he was busy tearing some old broken down peice of equipment to bits, the metal parts screaming as he wrentched them apart in a terrifying show of strength. Jenny, though, had never really been one for the cautious self-preservation route.

“What the hell was that?” she shouted, over the cry of protesting metal, and he stopped, stood still for a few seconds, then looked over his shoulder, game-faced and glaring, as though she had some nerve interrupting his infantile display of pique.

“What the hell were you *thinking* back there?” she demanded again.

He turned around.

“Thinking? What was *I* thinking? I wasn’t the one who ran like a scared deer from a illusion any competent five-year-old could have spotted.”

“I’m not talking about that! God, Ripper, I nearly died! That pet Slayer of yours could have killed me. You didn’t do *anything*. What the hell is up with that? I thought you--”

“What? You think I care?”

And he actually sounded honestly surprised. It took her a moment to get her stride back.

”Duh! I expect you to *care*. God, Ripper, I *love* you, I thought you--”

“Oh, *please.* Love? Vampires don’t *love.* I certainly don’t *love* anything. And neither should you. Good lord.”

She stared after him as he stormed off, apparently looking to continue his property damage somewhere with more privacy.

It was Spike’s voice that finally broke her stunned reverie.

“He’s telling the truth, you know. He doesn’t care. Don’t think he even can, really.”

She lowered her head, then peered back over her shoulder at him.

“I don’t... understand. You and Dru...”

“Look, Gypsy, you’re one thing to him, and one thing only. And you know what that is. And frankly, that makes you pretty much expendable, far as he’s concerned.”

Spike came up beside her, leaned back against the hunk of junk that Ripper had been demolishing, and pulled out a cigarette, then tipped the package in her direction. She waved the offer off and leaned against the metal next to him as he lit up. She crossed her arms over her stomach and stared off into the darkness of the factory.

“See, thing is...” Spike continued, “We don’t really change as much as we might like to think. Some vamps, they don’t get along so well with their demon. Others... ‘s like finding a long-lost friend.”

Tendrils of white smoke trailed up and away, coiling and curling as they went.

“So... what do you do?”

“Survive, pet. ’s all you can do.”

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