6.

Ripper chewed on his thumbnail, gazing into space with an odd look on his face. Jenny watched him for a moment, looking at the cut across his forehead, the black eye, then rose to her feet, crossing over to him and placing her hand on his shoulder. He shook her off with a snarl, twisting away from her touch. Her eyes narrowed and she backed away.

" Not as easy as you thought, then? The Slayer?" she asked finally. "She won't let us go, you know. She's a Slayer; you're a vampire, now. You know what she is, what she'll do." Ripper glared at her. "She'll hunt you down and try her best to kill you. She won't just let us leave." Jenny went on, voice low and sensuous. "And I want to leave Sunnydale. Sunnyhell – definitely more like it. Get away from this hellhole. I have," she smiled sweetly, evilly, "people I want to see."

"I know what she is." Ripper growled at her. "We need something to bargain with. Something she won't expect. Something she'll fight for. Or give in to." He hesitated and began to smile. "And I think I know what we can use……"

* * *

Buffy had hurriedly pulled on her coat and gone out with Willow and Xander. After a quick admonishment not to be too late, Joyce turned the lights down low and prepared to settle down for the evening. There was an old film on TV and she had a book she was looking forward to starting; she smiled to herself in anticipation as she pulled the curtains and changed into an old fleecy sweatsuit. She made herself a cup of hot chocolate, curled up in a corner of the sofa with her feet tucked underneath her and began to read. She was comfortable and well into the book when the knock at the door interrupted her enjoyment, cutting through the quiet burble of the TV. She sighed, rolled her eyes in mock irritation and put the book to one side, uncoiling herself and going to the door, checking the time as she went.

"Did you forget your key again?" she said as she answered it, expecting to see Buffy when she pulled it open.

The man on the other side looked down at her, leaning on the door jamb, breathing hard, shrouded in shadows. "Hello, Joyce," he gasped, accent clipped and precise, voice low. "Is Buffy around? I need to speak to her, it's, it's quite urgent."

"Oh! Mr Giles!" Joyce started back in surprise, hand going to her throat; she hadn't expected to find the tall librarian on her doorstep at such a late hour. "Oh, ah, no, I'm sorry, she's not here. She's gone out somewhere with, uh, Xander and Willow." She paused, and glanced at her watch again, squinting at it. She reached up to click the porch light on. "But she should be back soon……would you like to wait?" She frowned as a thought occurred to her, then looked back up at Giles as she spoke. "She's not in some kind of trouble, is she? At school?" She gasped in horror at his battered face. "What happened to you?"

Giles uncoiled himself from the door jamb and laughed. "No, nothing like that. And as for me – well, a foolish accident, that's all. I just need – a quick talk. If you're sure it's no trouble, I'd like to wait." He hesitated, hovering on the threshold. "I'm not interrupting you or anything?" he asked.

Joyce shook her head firmly. "No, not at all. I was just enjoying the peace to read a little." she said, smiling wryly. "Please, come on in and make yourself at home. I have some antiseptic somewhere in here…… I'll make us a drink and then I'll find it."

The tall Englishman stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him with a solid thunk and following Joyce as she turned and made her way towards the kitchen. "What would you like?" she said over her shoulder. "Coffee, or, or chocolate, or something?"

"Anything would be fine," he replied as they entered the kitchen. Joyce frowned slightly, surely he hadn't sounded like that a moment ago – the refined accent had changed, slipped, become something else. His features Changed. "But I was thinking of something – a bit different."

"Oh?" she said, reaching up into a cupboard, taking down a tin of hot chocolate and frowning at the label. "I don't have any alcohol if that's what you're after." She sighed. "Too much of a temptation with Buffy in the house, not that I think she drinks. Too much temptation for me!"

"No. Not alcohol." The librarian said, a curiously insolent tone in his voice. She didn't hear him close in behind her, and when his hand dropped onto her shoulder and spun her round, the tin fell from her suddenly nerveless hand. It lost its lid as it hit the floor and bounced into a corner, spraying dark brown chocolate powder over the pristine tiles.

Her eyes opened wide in shock and fear as she looked at his face; he grinned, lips curling back over the sharp, pointed canines like a dogs. He spun her back round again, pulling her back against his body and locking an arm across her chest, effectively pinning her arms. He felt her hitch in a breath to scream; he clapped his free hand over her mouth, muffling the noises she made. She could hear the smile in his voice as he dropped his head and spoke softly next to her ear. "You're coming out to play, Joyce. Won't that be fun?" The arm across her body tightened with frightening speed, constricting her lungs, making it hard to breathe. "And don't call me Giles. It's Ripper, now."