7.
Buffy stood still, doubled over, wheezing slightly while Xander and Willow supported her, glancing at each other worriedly.
"I think……I think I'm gonna be sick," she said thickly and pushed away from them, stumbling into the bushes that lined someone's fence next to the sidewalk, falling to her knees. Willow and Xander stood, silent for a moment.
"What's the matter with her? I've never seen her this way before." Xander leaned forward and whispered to Willow. She shrugged, eyes wide.
"Maybe shock," she suggested finally, quietly. "You know how she thinks of Giles, and now, and this……after Angel and all. I don't think she really believed it. Not even when Spike said he'd seen them, told us what – had happened. She'll be fine, we just – just have to get her home, that's all."
When she'd finished, Buffy struggled to her feet, roughly scrubbing the back of her hand across her mouth, brushing soil from her clothes. She stared into space for a moment before Willow's voice reached her. "Buffy? Are you alright?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm – I'm fine." She emerged from the bushes and smiled wanly at them. "I guess – I didn't expect him to come to me. Not to have to fight him." Tears welled up in her blue eyes. "I guess I just – still think of him as Giles, you know?"
"We know," Xander answered softly. "Come on, Buff. Let's go home." They took her arms and they began to walk down the sidewalk.
* * * *
"Mom?" Buffy stepped through the door and shrugged out of her jacket, turning to wave at Xander and Willow before she closed the door. "Mom?"
She glanced into the lounge, where a book lay face down on the sofa and the TV burbled quietly to itself. The only light was from a single lamp behind the sofa, angled so that Joyce could read comfortably. The rest of the house remained silent apart from the muted sound of the TV. "Mom?" She called out again, padding through into the kitchen, frowning when she saw the chocolate powder coating the floor, the now empty tin resting at the foot of a unit. "Weird," she murmured, staring at it for a moment. She shrugged slightly and turned out of the kitchen, calling out to Joyce again, more urgency in her voice now. "Mom?!" She hurried upstairs, pushed open the door to her mother's room and stopped abruptly, rocking back on her heels in shock and fear.
Ripper stood by the window and in his arms hung the limp shape of Joyce. As she heard the door open, Joyce raised her head and Buffy could see the gag wound tightly across her mouth, her eyes wide with fear and pain.
"Mmmph mmphhm mmphmmm!" She tried to struggle against the grip across her abdomen and chest and Buffy watched for a stunned moment as Ripper's grip tightened visibly. Joyce slumped again, eyes rolling back in her head, head falling forward. Buffy felt as though time had slowed down; Joyce's muffled shouts had taken mere seconds but each sound had lasted years.
"Hello again, Buffy." The tall vampire's voice was almost amused.
"Let – her – go!" Buffy hissed through clenched teeth and started forwards. "It's me you want, so why not leave her alone?" she said as she stepped slowly further into the room. Ripper shook his head and shook Joyce from side to side like a rag doll.
"Do you really want to kill your own mother?" He sounded like he was smiling. "Because if you keep walking, I'll snap her like a twig." Buffy stopped, anguish on her face. He watched her carefully. "That's better. I have a – a proposition for you, if you will."
Buffy glared at him. "I don't bargain with vampires." She laughed bitterly. "You should know that, Watcher."
"No, indeed you don't," he agreed, adding maliciously, "unless they happen to be your lover. But that's beside my point. Thing is, you're a Slayer. Jenny and I don't particularly want to end up as dust. We want to leave Sunnydale, and not on the breeze. So I have a bargain for you. We'll look after Joyce for a bit and you – you keep away from us and concentrate on Angelus – remember him? We intend to leave – soon – and when we do, you can have her back." He jiggled Joyce again. "We'll let you know where to find her."
Buffy gritted her teeth, staring at her mother's limp body. "And how do I know I can trust you?" she asked jerkily.
Ripper shrugged airily. "You don't. But then, do you have a choice?"
He smiled and suddenly, before Buffy could move, lunged backwards, crashing through the window behind him with Joyce in his arms, gripped tightly in front of his body. Things went into slow motion again; Buffy could hear the crack of the wooden frame, the crunch as the glass cracked, the sound as it rained down. The night breeze caught at the thin curtains and snapped them into the room. She dived forwards, swimming through the air, got to the window in time to see Ripper rolling awkwardly to his feet, the fall causing him no problems, Joyce still clasped in his arms - he'd taken the impact, she saw, grateful for that one small thing. She saw the paleness of his face as he glanced up at the window, the unmistakable smile as he hoisted Joyce up over his shoulder and hurried away into the darkness.