Chapter 12: All That’s Left
Chapter Notes: I am going to sacrifice a chocolate-covered Spikebot to my beta goddess Mariana, who got a piece of coal and made it a diamond. Thank you so much!
Another big thanks goes to Cile for filling in as beta for TF for the past few chapters. Thanks, honey!Finally, thanks to everyone who has had enough patience to wait for this chapter.
“You think I like having you in here? Destroying everything that was me, until all that’s left is you.”
(Spike, “Crush”)
Previously on “The Favourite”:
After a shopping spree and lunch with Drusilla, Kendra is unwell. Buffy, aware of Drusilla’s evil character, suspects Dru has tried to poison her friend. She voices her suspicions, but is proved wrong. Kendra is pregnant.
Buffy tries to cope with her conflicting feelings.
Joyce Summers persuades the art collector Wesley W. Pryce to sell a priceless statue, the Galatea, to her gallery’s customer. She has only been in touch with him over the client’s law firm in L.A. Wesley refuses to sell at first, until he learns about Joyce’s fate and her daughter’s disappearance, which was, ultimately, because of her flying over to buy the statue. Wesley relates that the Galatea was his wedding gift for his fiancée Winifred, whose plane was hijacked on her way to him, she was abducted and he never saw her again. Moved by Joyce’s story and his own painful memory, he sells the statue to her.
Buffy encourages Tara to confess her feelings to Willow, unaware of the consequences a lesbian relationship among the sheik’s wives can have.
Joyce, still desperate about Buffy’s disappearance, nevertheless has to prepare to do her job and deliver the marble statue to her anonymous customer. Her contact, Lilah Morgan, advises her to take some measures for Dawn’s safety when she brings her along – she must go fully veiled.
Spike reveals to Buffy that the Galatea is supposed to be a gift for her.
Drusilla, jealous because Kendra is pregnant with a child that might one day threaten her own son Khari’s claim to the throne, tries to kill Kendra. Kendra survives, but loses the baby. Buffy comforts grief-stricken Spike. The next day, she tells him about Drusilla’s attempted murder, but given that she has made ungrounded accusations against Dru before, he does not believe her and chalks her suspicions off as jealousy. He admits that ever since Buffy came to his kingdom, she has been the only one for him. An intimate moment between the two is interrupted by the guards, who, prompted by Drusilla, have arrested Willow and Tara for having sex with each other. Buffy begs Spike not to punish them, but he claims that this would look like weakness to his enemies and probably cost him his life. Although he, too, is desperate to save them, he cannot take back the death sentence the law requires. Buffy is beside herself with anger and fear.
Buffy finds little Khari’s toy pig Mr Gordo. When she picks it up, she finds someone (Spike, of course!) used the pig to send her a message telling her to see Clem, and a key card. Talking to Clem, Buffy finds out that the key card belongs to a lock on a secret passage under the palace, leading to the kingdom’s limits. Buffy learns from Clem that Spike used a birth date as a code, but Clem does not know whose. To try the birthdays of 38 wives would take longer than the 30-second time limit. So one person will have to stay behind to create a diversion and buy Willow and Tara some time.
Buffy figures out that it was Spike who sent her the message in order to save Willow and Tara and keep his tough image. Buffy is about to put her plan of freeing Willow and Tara from their prison into action, when Joyce arrives with Dawn in order to deliver the statue.
When Dawn, fully veiled and dressed like a local woman, wanders down a corridor alone in search of a water dispenser, Buffy (also veiled) walks right past her. Buffy does not recognize her.
Dawn sipped on her water and watched the woman walking past her, leaving her to ponder on the situation surrounding her.
Must be exciting to live here, she thought. Always great weather, and the sheik, Spike, was really cute. Those gorgeous blue eyes… she would even bet that woman was one of his wives. Lucky her. The scent of the girl’s perfume that has passed her by still lingered. Simply Irresistible. Dawn blinked. Instantly recognizing the fragrance as a French product. Strange that they would have it here, too. Wait a minute! Hadn’t her mother mentioned that she wouldn’t be missing the mandatory duty free shopping at all, because this country was famous for the rich and precious scents of Arabia? Hadn’t she also said that they didn’t import any American or French beauty products? That woman… Dawn’s heart was fiercely pounding. The way she carried herself… There was something oddly familiar about the way she walked. Had she looked at her? Dawn had not seen her face, but still…
“Buffy?” Dawn whispered into the silence.
Obviously, there was no one there to offer a reply.
It took her a moment to tear herself away from her lethargy. “Buffy…” She took a few tentative steps into the direction the veiled woman had taken. She barely noticed that her vision was blurred with tears.
Dawn broke into a frantic run down the hallway, yelling her sister’s name. “Buffy! BUFFY! BUFFY!!!!!!!!” Her dress and veil were in complete disarray, but Dawn couldn’t have cared less. When she reached the end of the hallway, the corridor forked in two. The veiled woman – BUFFY, she corrected herself – was nowhere to be seen. Dawn stood uncertain, pondering for a horrible crucial moment, before she decided to take the left fork.
*
Buffy tried to look unsuspicious as she approached the guard. Clem had been correct. Only two men were there to guard the prisoners. Spike must have been very confident that no one could ever escape from the premises. Or – she shuddered at even daring to think about it -, he simply did not think it was worth the trouble to invest much money in security, due primarily to the relatively short amount of time between the arrest and the execution of prisoners. With a pounding heart, Buffy approached the guards.
“What are you doing here?” the first guard snarled at her. “Women are not allowed into this part of the palace.”
“Really?” Buffy blinked and gave him her best “I’m blonde AND dumb” act, which was quite the difficult feat to perform when your face and hair are completely covered by a veil and you only have your eyes to work with. So she flirtatiously batted her eyelashes at him. “I’m so glad I’ve found you guys, cos you know, like, I’m totally lost, like, I’m not even sure where I am!”
“Well, you’re in a restricted area,” the guard snapped menacingly, “Go back, or else I’ll report you!”
Buffy gave the second Janissary, who was less muscular and had softer features, an innocent look. “Oh, am I really? I’m soooo sorry, so that’s why, like, nothing looked familiar around here! Must have taken a wrong turn somewhere!”
“Never mind,” the man replied in a conciliatory tone, “I got lost here on my first day, too!”
Buffy giggled.
“Yeah, that’s because you’re dumb, Fouad,” the first guard retorted harshly, “Now back to the harem, woman!”
Fouad shot his colleague a dark look, but obviously bit back an insult to his superior officer.
“To be honest, I’m a bit scared of getting lost again. Could you escort me back to the harem, please? This palace is so huge, and I…” She smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes for effect. “I’m just a girl, after all.”
Fouad seemed eager to escort her back, but hesitant to do so without being given the leave by the other Janissary. “Commander Mundhir?”
“So what are you waiting here for?” Commander Mundhir scowled. “And no loitering! I want you back in ten minutes sharp, is that understood?”
“Yes, Sir. This way, my lady.” Fouad gallantly let Buffy lead the way back into the long corridor. “So you’re one of the sheik’s wives,” he commented stupidly, just to make some small talk.
“Yeah, technically, but… I guess he’s just not that into me,” Buffy said with a dismissive gesture, “He’s got his favourites.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Fouad said, but with a smug smile. It did not sound as if he regretted that too much.
“I’m so glad you’re taking me back, I would never be able to find my way around here on my own,” Buffy said in her best damsel-in-distress voice. “And I hope you don’t mind me saying this but you seem like such a strong and impressive man. I’m really happy you’re here protecting us.” For a moment she feared she had overdone it, but when she saw his shoulders straightening and an idiotic grin crossing his face, she knew it was working. “You know and please don’t take this the wrong way but… Fouad… you shouldn’t let that fool Mundhir treat you like that.”
Fouad sighed. “Mundhir is my commander. I follow his orders. He’s an arrogant son-of-a… well, he’s sort of difficult to deal with, but that doesn’t change a thing, unfortunately. He commands, and we all have to obey.”
Buffy made a big show of blinking away some crocodile’s tears. “That’s so… sad… and… and unfair! I understand that he’s your boss and everything, but still, that doesn’t give him the right to call you a coward in front of all the Janissaries in your unit!”
“What?” Fouad gasped and stopped in his tracks.
Buffy put a hand to her veil, in the place where her mouth was. “Whoops. Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said that, it’s evil gossip, and I’m a silly girl.”
“No, no,” Fouad insisted, just as she had expected him to do, “I want to hear this. What. Did. Mundhir. Say?” he inquired, stressing every word.
Buffy lowered her voice to a more conspiratorial tone, stressing the secrecy by looking frantically at each side of the corridor for marauders. “The thing is… you know Abdul-Nasir, the sheik’s personal bodyguard?”
Fouad nodded impatiently. “Yes, yes, yes, and?”
“I really don’t want to put him on the spot, but…” Buffy paused dramatically, seeming reluctant to keep talking. “When I was waiting outside of the sheik’s quarters last week, Nasir told me how Mundhir had made fun of you after dinner, how he said that you were afraid of your own shadow and… oh no, I can’t repeat this, it was horrible!”
“WHAT?” Fouad demanded, his face flushed and his jaw clenched.
“I really can’t say this aloud. I’m too embarrassed.” Buffy lowered even more her voice and gestured for him to bend down to her so she could whisper in his ear.
“What did he say?” Fouad whispered.
“He said that the sheik had probably recruited you along with the eunuchs who guarded the harem,” Buffy whispered back.
Fouad’s face immediately went bright red with rage. “He should not have said that! He definitely should not have said that!” he snapped, balling his fists. “I’m going to make him regret he ever set foot into this palace!” Without paying any more attention to Buffy, he ran back down the corridor. Buffy, who was promptly following at his heels and glad that he could not see her satisfied smile behind the veil, had trouble keeping up with his pace.
“Took you long enough, Fouad,” Mundhir grumbled when he heard the other Janissary approaching, not truly aware of Fouad’s enraged intentions.
Fouad spit out a nasty insult in Arabic and, without warning, hit his commander square in the face with his fist.
Mundhir saw stars and swayed dangerously, then spit out blood and something that looked very much like a tooth. “Are you insane? What the hell is wrong with you?” he roared and without actually expecting an answer, hit back.
Fouad stumbled back, wiping blood from his upper lip. “I will teach you to call ME a eunuch!” he roared.
Fouad’s next blow aiming directly to Mundhir’s adam’s apple.
As if on sensing the imminent attack, Mundhir brought his knee up between Fouad’s legs right before the blow took its toll and the Janissary commander went down to the floor in a pulp.
Fouad howled in pain. Then, everything went dark around him.
“Aw, that was just… too easy.” Buffy pouted. She shrugged as she knelt down and searched Mundhir’s pockets for the keys to the security door and the trap door hidden in the chamber behind it. “Boys!” she said shaking her head as she jingled the now freed keys.
With fleeting fingers, she began to try one by one the keys on the chain and luck was definitely on her side, for it helped her find the right one really fast. It took her some effort to push open the heavy security door, and for a horrible second, she feared that the noise she was making would wake up the unconscious guards, but nothing like that happened. She rushed into the small chamber that held no furniture, just a rusty old ladder, with a small trapdoor on the floor. Buffy unlocked it and lifted the heavy lid.
“Will! Tara!” she said into the blackness below.
For a long, straining moment, there was no reply.
Then, at the bottom of the pitch-black hole, something stirred.
Holding her breath, Buffy listened into the darkness.
“Buffy?” Willow’s voice was very small, vulnerable, and disbelieving.
“I’m getting you out of here,” Buffy promised, her voice trembling, as she let the ladder down the trapdoor. “Hurry up, we don’t have much time.”
Willow gave a sound that sounded like a sob.
Buffy barely recognized her friends as they took tentative steps up the ladder. Their skin was gray, the beautiful clothes they had once worn at the harem had turned into dirty rags, and both of them, even Tara, who had always been known for her luscious curves, looked haggard. Willow blinked at the brightness of the light when she emerged from the dark hole. Buffy tried not to let the terror show in her face as she hugged them both, tightly, yet very briefly. “Can you walk?”
“I hurt my ankle when they pushed me down,” Tara said, and Buffy shuddered at the thought of being cast into those dreadful shadows, “But I’ll manage” Tara added resolutely.
Buffy nodded. “Let’s go. We’ll take the tunnels of the ventilation system. You have to climb up there. Think you can do that?”
“Yes,” Tara agreed.
“Where do we go from there?” Willow asked.
Buffy did not elaborate. “Let me worry about that. I know a safe way out.”
Willow squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Buffy. Oh, goddess, thank you.”
Buffy blinked back a tear. She could not permit herself to conjure any type of emotion, at least not right now, for if she did, she was sure to fall apart. She needed to remain level headed, for the sake of all the parties involved in this endeavour. “Be careful not to step over the unconscious bodies in the hall,” she added lightly, but her voice sounded hoarse and distant. As they stepped into the hall, Buffy made sure to carefully put back the keys on Mundhir’s pockets, completing phase 1 of the escape plan.
*
“But what they didn’t get was that it was a copy of the bill of lading… so they thought that it was another order form, so I had two shipments of Greek amphorae on my hands!”
Dawn heard her mother’s voice and Spike’s deep laughter even before she burst into the gallery.
“That’s funny. And really, how many do you need, amphorae?”
They laughed together at the conclusion of Joyce’s story as they were standing in front of a glass case that contained a Greek amphora from the 1st century BC. Spike was leaning against the wall casually, smiling radiantly, and her mother looked as relaxed and happy as she had not seen her once since Buffy’s disappearance.
Dawn’s abrupt entrance made their heads turn.
“She’s here,” Dawn breathed, her eyes wild and desperate, “I saw her!” Dawn chided herself for not actually saying “Buffy is here, I saw Buffy!” which made her realize how fast her sister’s name had become a taboo around her small family. But she could not bring herself to say it. It still hurt too much. “I smelled her perfume,” Dawn said in a tear-stricken voice, “But before I was able to make the connection, she was gone, and there are so many hallways here, I… I couldn’t find her again… and I got lost, and I didn’t see where she went, and…” She broke off, tears running freely down her face.
Joyce put her hands over Dawn’s. All the happiness and giggles had drained from her face as fast as they had appeared. She ran a hand over Dawn’s cheek. “I know, honey. I see her everywhere, too. Every single day.”
“No!” Dawn said violently, “It wasn’t like that! It was her! And I didn’t realize… It took me too long… and she was…” her voice was suddenly high-pitched and petulant. “… gone!”
Without another word, Joyce held her and let her cry. “I’m so sorry, Dawnie. I’m sorry. It happens every time I see a blond girl on the street or at the hotel… every time…” Her voice breaking as she blinked back her tears.
Spike stared at them in confusion. He put a hand on Joyce’s arm. “What is it, Joyce?” he asked in concern. “What is all this about?”
Joyce could hardly keep her voice from trembling. “My eldest daughter was kidnapped on the first day of our stay here. The authorities are looking for her, but we haven’t heard a word from her since.”
Spike’s face fell at discovering the tragedy that fell upon these two women. “I’m so sorry, Joyce, I had no idea. If there’s anything I can do for you…”
“Thank you,” Joyce said. “It’s just… very hard at the moment. We’ll be alright. They’ll find her,” she added with little conviction, “Sooner or later, we’ll all be together.”
“Of course.” Spike did not voice his doubts. He did not have the heart to mention that in this part of the world, Western girls, especially blonde ones, had a prominent tendency to disappear without a trace. With a twinge of guilt, he realized belatedly that it was the Galateathat had made this family come here in the first place. His unrelenting pursue to obtain that valuable and antique art piece had made this sweet little girl and her mother cry in despair for their abruptly broken family. Whomever and wherever Dawn’s sister was, his capricious wish to have that sculpture had brought misery upon that young woman too. But if there still existed, faint as it were, the possibility that she was still alive… Spike got thinking and realized that his offer to help had not been an empty one. He truly wanted to help Joyce to find her missing child.
“I could talk to my contacts at the local authorities in Cairo,” Spike offered, “I have friends. And those friends have friends. Very influential friends. If you need any financial aid to support the search for your daughter, please, do not hesitate to ask. You have helped me acquire this sculpture, at a terrible and unforeseen price on your home, so now, the least I can do really, is to provide the necessary means to help to find your daughter.”
Joyce smiled at him gratefully. “Thank you. You are very generous.”
*
After much trouble to get inside the air ducts, in the first place, Buffy, Willow and Tara were crawling along quietly. They had been moving through these shafts for what seemed like hours. Buffy knew how much of a cliché this all was, she even started humming the theme of Mission: Impossible in her head a while ago, but obviously people in this part of the world did not watch enough cable to know that in every lousy movie about a spies, robbery and whatnot, the hero always broke into the building over these kinds of tunnels. They were tight, but they would provide the safest – and probably only – access to Spike’s personal quarters. It was hot in the narrow steel tunnels. She was currently bathed in sweat and her dress stuck uncomfortably to her body. Willow and Tara behind her were also panting heavily, but if it was from the unrelenting heat or from fear and exhaustion, Buffy could not tell. She could only hope that they would find their way out soon. As she looked down from the slits periodically, she was able to make out their way by recognizing hallways and familiar rooms. She suspected, they had to be close to the gallery, and from there, it would only be a couple of hundred yards to Spike’s rooms – and then, their ticket to freedom. Willow and Tara’s tickets to freedom, Buffy thought gloomily. They were almost there. She had hoped Spike and his guests would have left the gallery by now. It would not be pleasant, considering the precarious situation they were in, to crawl through a tunnel that ran right above Spike’s head. She felt a numb pain in her knees, but they had to keep going… and crawling.
They had not quite reached the gallery when Buffy froze all movement. She could hear Spike’s voice over the ventilation system. Damn. It looked like his guests were still there. But they could not wait. They were running out of time. Once the guards regained consciousness and realized the prisoners were gone, all hell would break loose. They had to crawl over the gallery as quickly and as quietly as possible, paying close care not to draw any unwanted attention to them. Buffy turned around to look at Willow and Tara. She put her index finger over her mouth and then gestured ahead of her.
Willow nodded in silent understanding.
Taking a deep breath and bracing herself for what was coming, Buffy began to crawl towards the gallery. With some luck, the constant hum of the ventilation would drown any sound that came from the three girls hidden in the duct.
“…I have a child, too,” Buffy heard Spike saying, “A little boy. His name is Khari. He means the world to me. I don’t know what I would do without him. So if there is any way I can help you, I will. It’s what every parent would do.”
Buffy smiled despite her tension and strain. Whenever Spike talked about Khari, his voice unconsciously assumed a soft and tender quality and surprisingly, it calmed her down.
“We appreciate your help,” another voice said.
Buffy stopped dead on her tracks. She knew that voice. It made her blood run cold and her throat tighten. That was impossible. It couldn’t be… She had to be imagining it. But then Joyce Summers began talking again, in that sweet, soothing voice she had been missing so much during all those lonely hours at the palace, and Buffy had to muster all her strength not to break into hysterical sobs. She bit back her tears. Her mother… here? But how? Then she suddenly remembered that Joyce had been contacted by a law firm in L.A. She had not known who her client was. Well… one mystery solved, she thought in despair. Oh, God, mom.
“I was so sure I saw my sister,”a third voice chimed in, sounding low, depressed, and miserable… Buffy would have recognized that voice anywhere. Her heart skipped a beat. Dawn. “I’m sorry if I upset you mom,” Dawn continued.
“That’s okay,” Spike replied in a soothing voice, “After all you have been through, it’s no wonder that wishful thinking would eventually get the better of you.”
“So you’re not angry at me?”
“Of course not, Nibblet, why should I? I’ll do anything in my power to help you find your sister. I promise.”
Buffy’s heart tore as she listened to Spike talking to her sister. Nibblet. He even had a nickname for her. Buffy glanced through the grate and then she saw them, all three of them. Spike, her mother and Dawnie, they were all standing in the gallery in front of a white marble sculpture, talking about… her. Obviously Joyce had told her client about the disappearance of her daughter. And Spike had offered his unconditional help. He had no idea who the missing daughter/sister was. He had no idea it was her, Buffy. He had never even asked her for her surname. It would have been funny if not for the tragedy of it. Irony was spitting her in the face and fate was laughing at her. There they were, her mom and Dawnie, and all she had to do to be back in their embrace was to kick out the grate with her feet, and she would fall down to the floor in front of them, to hold them and kiss them, to, finally, let them take her home… they would not leave without her, and Spike would let her go, she had no doubt. He had just given her mother and sister his word, and honour was most important to him, no matter what. They would go home. To Sunnydale.
And Willow and Tara would be put to death.
The thought hit her like a slashhammer. They were so close… and yet she refused to make a noise to attract their attention. The cost of her freedom would be the end of her friends’ lives.
Tara nervously tugged at Willow’s sleeve, trying to figure out why they had stopped crawling and why Buffy had hesitated.
Buffy ran a hand over the grate, taking a longing last look at her family. “I love you, always” she mouthed. Then she forced herself, in an enormous effort of will, to tear her eyes away of the two women she loved most in the world and crawl on through the narrow duct. Her heart aching with every step she took and never looking back.
*
Buffy came up on a grate in Spike’s bedroom a few minutes later, kicking it out with both feet and jumping out without hesitation. She helped Willow and Tara climb down.
“What was going on in the gallery?” Willow asked, realizing then the unimpeded tears that were streaming over her friend’s face. “Buffy, what is it?”
“Nothing,” Buffy said dismissively. “We don’t have time for this, you guys got to go!”
“Willow, did you see the woman and the girl in the gallery with Spike?” Tara interrupted them.
“Yeah, sure. What about them?” Willow asked.
“Tara, don’t,” Buffy said warningly.
“They were your mom and your sis,” Tara said quietly, “weren’t they?”
Willow’s eyes widened. “What?!”
“My mom has an art gallery,” Buffy said, as if that was would explain everything.
“No,” Willow cried in disbelief, “Say you didn’t just do that!”
“It’s no big deal, really,” Buffy replied, trying to convince herself as much as Willow.
“But it IS a big deal,” Willow said desperately, “You could have just…” She made a helpless gesture.
“… left you to die?” Buffy offered. “I don’t think so.”
“Buffy,” Willow began.
“I’m not discussing this with you,” Buffy said firmly. “Yes, I’ve made a sacrifice, a willing sacrifice, I might add but if you don’t want it to be in vain, listen to me and do as I tell you!”
She was sorry to snap at her friends like that, but her own feelings were in too much of a turmoil to allow the pain to get to her now.
Willow nodded. “Okay.”
Buffy tore aside the faded Union Jack, and the three young women gasped at the sight of the hidden door. Buffy pressed the key card Spike had sent her over inside Mr Gordo in Willow’s palm. “When the first door opens, you will find a small antechamber with a second door and a computer panel. The four-digit code is the birthday of someone in Spike’s family. I don’t know whose, maybe Khari’s, maybe one of his wives’. You have thirty seconds to enter the correct date before the alarm goes off, but I’ll see if I can buy you more time. I’ll break Spike’s safe or something. You just try all the dates. When the door opens, run for your lives. There is a passageway that leads to the city limits. You’ll be out of Spike’s jurisdiction and out of harm’s way once you get there. You have to hurry.” She gave Willow a piece of crumpled paper. “This is the phone number of the US embassy at Cairo.”
“But Buffy…” Willow protested.
“Go!” Buffy insisted.
“Come with us,” Willow pleaded.
Buffy shook her head. “I can’t. If I go with you and it takes us too long to figure out the correct code, the guards will be upon us in less than a minute. But if I can create a distraction, nobody will know that the alarm went off because of the passage. I’ll put the Union Jack back over the door as soon as you’re in the antechamber and none will be the wiser. Hurry, please!” Buffy hugged the girls quickly. “Good luck!”
“Thank you,” Willow whispered. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done!”
Tara just squeezed her hand.
Buffy tried not to be sentimental about this. “Now, go! Fast!”
Tara opened the first door with the keycard. Buffy rushed her friends inside, closed the door as carefully and as quietly as possible then covered up the hidden door with the Union Jack of Spike’s mother, as if nothing had ever happened. They had thirty seconds, starting now.
She searched his desk for something, anything she could use to break open the safe behind the painting in Spike’s sitting room. 25 seconds left. A letter opener! There had to be one inside his desk, somewhere. Buffy’s hands were trembling as she began roaming the drawers, turning the papers upside down, until finally, her fingers closed around a silver letter opener. 20 seconds. She was taking it anxiously from the drawer, when her gaze suddenly fell upon a letter beneath it. It was written in English.
Sheik Khari Ahani,
You have declined my previous offers. This is your last warning. No matter for how long you keep ignoring me, I will not forget the pretty blond teacher I saw sitting by the fountain in your gardens with your little son. Send Buffy to me without delay. Otherwise, I am afraid you will sorely regret it.
I am your Master, and you had better remember it.
Khawandi
Buffy shuddered. 10 seconds. Her thoughts went back to the day she had been going through those texts with Khari by the fountain, with Spike looking down at them. She had felt a chill, as if the day had suddenly turned cold. And then that man had appeared out of nowhere, blocking her way, staring at her hungrily with his bloodshot eyes. She had shied away from his cold hand on her neck and his hoarse whisper was still haunting her in daily nightmares. “Soon…”
She stared at the letter in her hand. The drawer was full of letters, all of the same handwriting, with the same precious parchment and the seal of the khawandi.
The last letter was short and precise.
Sheik Khari Ahani,
Tomorrow. Midnight. Or else, war on your kingdom .
K
The letter dated from the day before.
How could Spike keep this from me? Buffy’s feelings were in turmoil. He could have just turned me over to the Master… but he didn’t. He risks the peace of his kingdom for my sake…
But she did not have time to dwell on those thoughts. At that moment, the alarm went off, time has run out. Determined to help Willow and Tara escape, she pocketed the letter and stabbed the letter opener into the safe’s lock in a desperate attempt. It did not open, but when she used force, she broke off a little piece of the lock. That was sure enough to spark off the alarm under normal circumstances, she reasoned. No one would know that she had not been the cause.
Buffy heard the shouts of the Janissaries in the corridors, and their fast approaching footsteps. She could only hope Willow and Tara had managed to enter the correct code in the meantime. The Janissaries burst into the sheik’s private quarters.
“What are you doing here?” a guard barked at her.
The second one did not ask any questions. He approached and turned her wrist around painfully, winding the letter opener from her grip. “She’s tried to break the safe open,” he said with irritation.
“Arrest her,” the first guard ordered.
“Hey, guys,” Buffy said, “I was just looking for the… uh… alright, caught me. I was trying to find out what my husband got me for my birthday. Some expensive jewels, I hope.”
“Save your breath, woman. Tell that to the sheik.”
*
Much later that evening, after a forceful arrest and much fretting on Buffy’s part, she was brought in front of the sheik to acknowledge the punishment that awaited her.”Jewels,” Spike repeated thoughtfully, walking up and down the gallery in front of her.
“That is what she said, my Lord,” the first guard confirmed.
Buffy shrugged innocently. “I guess, now that I think about it, it was a stupid idea,” she admitted with a small smile.
“Impertinent woman!” the second guard exclaimed and raised a hand as if to hit her, but Spike’s command stopped him in the movement.
“That will be all, thank you,” he said sharply. “You may leave. I will deal with the culprit personally.”
The guards exchanged a silent glance, then bowed and turned to leave. Buffy could have sworn she heard one of them mutter something that sounded strangely like ‘Lucky bastard!’
As the door closed behind them and left Buffy alone with Spike, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“You do not seem to be afraid of punishment,” Spike said suspiciously.
“You’re not gonna punish me,” Buffy said lightly.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “One might think that your attempt at breaking the safe had something to do with the escape of two convicted prisoners from my dungeons.”
“Are they safe?” Buffy asked abruptly, desperate for any information that would recount her friends’ fate. “I mean, not that I know who or what you’re talking about, or that I had anything to do with the whole affair, for that matter… But… I’d like to know if they made it.” She finished in a whisper, afraid of the actual answer.
Spike’s lips curled into a smile. “Of course, I have no idea what you mean by that, but I have heard on the news that two American citizens turned up at the US Embassy at Cairo today, claiming they had escaped from a palace in the desert by a secret passageway. Of course, this piece of news is completely unrelated to the events that occurred today, here in my kingdom.”
Buffy nodded. “Thanks.”
“What for?”
“For placing that key card into my hands.” She raised a hand, begging him to be silent and let her continue. “Don’t worry, I know you can’t admit it. And that’s fine by me. The most important thing is that Willow and Tara are safe, that there will be no death sent…” She stopped abruptly as her gaze fell on the marble statue of Galatea.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Spike said. “I’ve wanted that sculpture for months, but its former owner, who is an old enemy of mine, didn’t want to sell it to me. I had to hire an American art gallery to purchase it on my behalf. The woman in charge of said gallery was here earlier today, Joyce Summers. I sent her to Egypt to get the statue and a few other pieces of art for me.”
Buffy gave him a strange look. And I wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t for that cursed piece of ancient stone. “You had her fly over,” she said faintly. Now that all the tension and worry about Willow and Tara had subsided, she suddenly felt dizzy and very vulnerable.
“Well, yeah. It was expensive, but it’s truly worth it, don’t you think?”
Buffy did not reply. Her gaze was fixed on the statue. “You always seem to get what you want,” she said ambiguously.
Spike did not seem to notice her agitation or the double meaning of her statement and kept admiring the statue. “This is Galatea. Have you heard about her story?”
Buffy shook mutely her head, taking a step towards the sculpture. She touched the cold glass that separated her from the antique and was overcome by a great sense of loneliness. Her mother had bought this statue for Spike. Less than 8 hours ago, her mom and her little sister had transported it here. Her mom and sister… both whom she would never see again in this life.
Spike mistook her silence for appreciation of the artwork. “The clumsy giant Polyphemus loves the fair sea-nymph Galatea,” he explained in a quiet voice, “But she is in love with the handsome river god Acis. When Polyphemus finds out about the affair, he becomes very upset and jealous.”
Buffy ran her hands over the smooth surface. Her mother’s presence still lingered in the room. Her eyes filled with tears.
Spike continued in a soft voice. “‘I will make this the last one of your love meetings’, he exclaims, and hurls a rock at Acis. Though only a corner of it touches him, it overwhelms him. As his blood flows out from the wound, Galatea transforms Acis into a river. She often sits by the river and mourns the loss of their love…”
“That’s… so sad,” Buffy whispered. Her legs gave out and she fell softly on her knees at the foot of the statue, her shoulders trembling. She veiled her face to hide her tears.
Spike looked at her intently. “You’re not crying about the story, are you?”
She raised a hand, trying not to let her voice crack. “Just… give me a minute, please.”
He looked at her with concern and sat down on the cold floor by her side. “Buffy, what’s wrong?”
She could barely see him through her tears. “You wouldn’t understand.”
He gave the statue a critical glance. “If the statue bothers you, I could ask Joyce to…”
At the mention of her mother’s name, Buffy totally lost her composure. She repositioned herself on the floor and hugged her knees, curling into a tight little ball. She was sobbing uncontrollably. Spike pushed the veil away from her face and studied her expression. Her eyes were so full of despair and sorrow, it scared him. Her eyes… he had seen those eyes before. A cold dread came over him. This morning.
Buffy shook her head, her shoulders shaking with sobs.
“Your name,” Spike insisted, now alarmed.
Buffy lifted her chin and looked at him. “Buffy Anne Summers.”
“Summers.”
“Summers.”
He understood in an instant. “Joyce is your mother.”
Buffy could not speak. She nodded silently.
His face fell. “You could have run up to her. You could have pushed away the grate and called her name, stretched out a hand to touch her, and you would have been free.”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I could be going home right now, with my family.”
“But you let the moment pass because it would have cost Willow and Tara’s lives.”
Buffy ran her hands through her hair. “I couldn’t have lived with myself if I had done something else,” she admitted. “If I had made a sound, you would have had no choice. Willow and Tara would have been caught, and…”
Spike closed his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered, closing his eyes briefly, “Oh, God, thank you… oh God… Buffy.” He was momentarily torn between relief and remorse and… fear of losing her. What if she hated him now?
She indulged in his warm and comforting embrace for a long moment. After what seemed like an eternity, she turned her head to look at him.
It was as if she saw him for the first time.
“Where do we go from here?” Spike asked, almost inaudibly.
“Kiss me,” Buffy whispered.
It took a few seconds before her words registered with him. “Buffy, are you sure you…”
“Kiss me,” she repeated.
His lips brushed hers softly, as if by accident. It was surreal, her sitting at the feet of the fateful statue with him, two star-crossed lovers at the feet of another one, and Spike kissing her ever so delicately, yet with all the passion that he had been withholding until now, a kiss so full of promise and longing that at first she did not notice his cheeks were wet with tears, and his shoulders were trembling.
A last kiss, like he’s saying good-bye, Buffy thought in confusion.
She broke the kiss and looked at him, her eyes full of questions. “Spike, what is going on?”
“Nothing,” he replied levelly, regaining his composure fast. “It’s just that I’m gonna miss you… so much.”
He rose and walked over to a painting. To Buffy’s surprise, he took it off the wall to reveal a small touchpad. He entered a code, and the safe opened.
He took something out of the safe, something small and silver and shiny.
“What are you talking about?” Buffy asked, the letter of the khawangi seeming to burn a hole into the soft silk of her dress. Her stomach churned at the thought of the Master’s evil eyes and clawlike hands. No… he couldn’t do that… he couldn’t send her away… “Where am I going?” she asked in a small voice.
Spike pressed the cell phone into her hand. “Home.”
TBC