Disclaimer: This story is based on ideas from the French novel "La Nuit du Sérail" by Michel de Grèce. No copyright infringement intended. The names and places are entirely ficticious and do not refer to any real countries, political or social situations, religious or ideological beliefs. The language spoken in the ficticious country is based on several different Arabic languages.

Rating: NC-17. Seriously. The story begins with the hijacking of a plane. There is violence, humiliation and other adult content. Please go elsewhere if you're underage or sensitive to this kind of material.

Author's note: The country in which the story is set is fictitious - it does not exist and does not relate to any real places, real religions or real political situations. I have never been to an Arabic country, and the background I'm using for my story is that of the tales of the Arabian Nights - it is a fairytale place, no less and no more than that. Something else you should know: I'm not writing a feminist manifest, but a love story. So no need to send me angry emails ;-) You still want to read it? Here you go, but don't say I didn't warn you.


Chapter 1

Hijacked


Dawn was playing with her seat-belt, fastening and unfastening it in anticipation. Typical, Buffy thought, she had to have the seat by the window, and hasn't looked down even once, since the plane took off!

Dawn was oblivious to her sister’s discomfort, and, quite the opposite actually, in a very good mood. "Can't wait to be at the hotel! Lying in the sun, swimming, this is gonna be great!"

Buffy was looking at her sister with amusement. "More like visiting pyramids and museums," she remarked with a side glance at their mother.

"Now you're exaggerating," Joyce protested, "I'm in Egypt for business, but that doesn't mean the two of you can't enjoy a day or two in the sun."

Dawn cast her sister a triumphant glance.

"You have to listen carefully," Buffy replied, "A day or two. Out of two weeks."

Dawn looked a little disappointed. "Why do we have to do the boring stuff, again?"

"The gallery's new customer is very much into Egyptian art, he wants me to have a look at it and maybe purchase some ridiculously expensive objects on his behalf," Joyce explained, and Buffy had a sense of a déjà vu. "Of course I was hoping you'd be joining me when I'm touring the museums and galleries," Joyce added, "It's been so long since we've had a real vacation together."

Museums and art galleries were not exactly Dawn's idea of a family vacation, it didn’t even sound remotely fun, but she kept her peace because it was then when the stewardess came and asked them if they needed anything.

"How long till Cairo?" Dawn asked impatiently.

"About another hour, sweetie," the stewardess said with a much rehearsed smile. "If you look down there now, you can already see Africa."

Dawn craned her neck to look down, but all she saw were clouds.

"Can I get you girls anything?" the stewardess asked looking at Buffy.

Buffy's heart said coke, but she fought the impulse down as she thought of her tiny bikini. Better not risk anything. She was planning to make good use of her time at the five star hotel her mother's eccentric new customer was paying for them. Flirting was definitely on the agenda. "Another diet coke, please," she replied.

Joyce nodded. "A glass of water for me, please."

The stewardess made a note. "Uh-hu, and for you, little one?" she asked Dawn in a saccharine tone that was much too sweet, exceedingly artificial and a potential carcinogen if you overdose.

Dawn was about to reply that she was sixteen and show her the pictures of everyone she had beaten up for calling her little one since she was five, but she never got the chance.

At that precise moment, four raven-haired, dark-skinned, black-eyed men two rows in front of them jumped from their seats. Buffy froze in her seat. They had guns, big ones. One of them was waving a suitcase.

"I have bomb!" he said in heavily accented English, "You move, you die."

*


Buffy was hoping desperately someone would wake her up from this nightmare, but the longer she waited to awake, the safer it was to say that she was not dreaming. Dawn held her hand so tightly that it was painful, but Buffy was too scared to notice.

Two of the men were walking up and down the aisles of the economic class, while the other two had dragged a stewardess to the cockpit with the barrel of a gun pressed to her temple.

Endless moments later, the pilot's shaking voice spoke to them over the internal speakers. "This is your captain. I regret to inform you that the flight is under the control of... There will be a change on our flight schedule. We are not going to Cairo any longer. Please do not panic, and under no circumstances make any attempts to resist. If we all stay calm, we will be safe."

"Safe," Buffy snapped.

"Please," Joyce said in a low voice.

Dawn started crying.

One of the hijackers aimed a gun at her. "Shut up!" he yelled.

Dawn fell silent and looked very white with her eyes almost falling out of their sockets.

Minutes later, one of the hijackers returned from the cockpit, and began to talk to the others in a language Buffy had no idea about, but she caught the words 'Jahannam' and 'airport'.

The stewardess, still being threatened with the gun, looked scared to death and green in the face. The hijacker pushed her in the empty seat next to Buffy's mother.

Joyce patted her hand. "It's alright," she said, her own voice shaking, "It's gonna be alright."

The stewardess's eyes filled with tears. "It's my first long-distance flight," she cried, "And then this happens!"

"What's your name, dear?" Joyce asked compassionately, temporarily pushing away her own fear for the sake of everyone surrounding her.

"C--C--Cordelia Chase. Cordy."

"Listen, Cordy," Joyce said, "Can you tell us what's going on?"

Cordy wiped her eyes. "They're terrorists. They want prisoners in a high security US prison to be released. They've hijacked the plane and are forcing Captain Woods to take us to Jahannam instead of Cairo. H-h-h-he tried to explain them we may run out of fuel on our way, that it's not safe..." She was crying harder, shaking with sobs. "But they won't listen! They want those prisoners, and a free, not-to-be-followed departure from the airport." She sobbed. "The border is close. If they can make it there, they're safe, it's a no man's land."

One of the terrorists glared at them. "You shut up!" he shouted, pointing at Cordelia with his gun.

Dawn screamed.

The man grinned sadistically and held his gun right under her nose.

Dawn thought she would faint any minute.

"Leave her alone, she's just a child," Joyce protested.

"No. No child." With another smirk, the man let his gun travel down Dawn's body, touching her lightly with the tip of the rifle. Buffy did not know what drove her to do what she did, but she bent forward and pushed herself between the gun and her sister.

"That's enough," she said energetically.

Joyce looked scared to death.

The terrorist looked angry enough to shoot Buffy right there, but one of the other men started laughing. "Hero," he said, his laughter relaxing his upset friend.

"Will see," the man told Buffy and turned away from them.

"That was so brave!" Dawn whispered.

Cordelia fell to pieces. "That was so stupid!"

"Will you shut up?" Buffy snapped. Now that the adrenaline rush had passed, she felt cold all over with a sinking feeling in her stomach, and she was shaking with fear.

*


Contrary to the pilot's fears, they landed safely at Jahannam airport on their last drop of fuel. Three of the men were discussing in their language in very loud voices.

"They're gonna release us now. Right?" Dawn asked anxiously.

"Of course," Joyce said, though she was far from sure that this would be finally over.

"How naive are you?" Cordelia snapped, "Do you think the military's gonna let them just walk away?"

Buffy cast her an angry glance, but she knew Cordelia had a point. She tried to look past Dawn out of the window. She did not like what she saw. There was a jeep right in the airfield, but there were plenty of military and police surrounding the airport.

"The fourth man is probably negotiating with the government," Joyce whispered.

They could hear agitated voices from the cockpit. Buffy heard a voice she recognized as Captain Woods's screaming "No, no, no!". There was a shot. Then nothing. Silence.

Buffy closed her eyes, taking her legs to her chest and her face down between her knees.

They had probably shot the pilot. Now they were all going to die.

The fourth man burst into the economy class. He seemed to inform the others that there was police and military everywhere, that they were going to be shot as soon as they left the plane, or if the case was, the enemy tired of waiting, would enter the plane to shoot them out.

The leader nodded grimly. He raised his voice. "We need cover. We take hostages."

"Oh, God," Cordelia whimpered.

Buffy did not even notice because the man she had offended was coming over to them and grabbed Dawn's wrist. "You."

Dawn screamed and struggled against him as he tried to drag her past Buffy and Joyce.

"Please, stop," Joyce begged, her eyes filled with tears.

Buffy's heart was pounding in her chest. "She's too young," she said, "Leave her here."

The man grinned. "Ah. Hero!"

She extended her shaking hand. "Take me for her."

"Buffy, no!" Dawn cried.

Buffy caressed her cheek. "I'll be fine. They just need hostages as shields until they get out of the airport. They're gonna set me free."

"They won't, and you know it!" Dawn protested.

Joyce rose from her seat. "If you touch my daughters, you'll have to get past me first."

"Not problem." The terrorist knocked her out and threatened Buffy with his gun. Dawn screamed and looked after her mother immediately. She was unconscious, but did not seem badly injured. Buffy meant to help, but the man pushed her ahead, making her stumble her way out. "Go."

"Buffy!" Dawn watched her go in despair.

"Take care of mom!" Buffy instructed her as the terrorist pushed her toward the exit next to the other hostages. She had a sinking feeling she might never see her sister and her mother again. Buffy felt the gun pressed to her ribs, cold metal on her skin even through the fabric of her floral print dress. She walked through the plane slowly, the eyes of hundreds of terrified passengers on them, until they reached the exit. The door was pushed open. Walking outside into the heat was like hitting a wall.

It was as if she was watching a particularly bad movie. One of the terrorists shielded his body with hers as they were stepping down the gangway. Hot, dry wind, that burned your throat when you inhaled, touched Buffy's face, the man smelled of dirt and sweat. Everywhere, Buffy saw rifles, aimed at them, waiting for their captors to make a mistake and give them a reason to shoot. Buffy prayed they would not decide that four hostages would be an acceptable price to pay to stop the terrorists.

From the corner of an eye, Buffy saw the other three hostages. A white yuppie in suit and tie, a middle-aged woman in a plain dress, and a little girl, maybe ten years of age.

Hot asphalt was burning Buffy's feet as they walked on.

Six feet left now to the jeep the terrorists had previously ordered.

Suddenly, the man in the suit in a heroic though stupid attempt to free himself, screamed "For England!" and drove his elbow in his captor's stomach. The captor shot without hesitation, his hostage went instantly down. The soldiers on the roofs and terrace of the airport started shooting, one of the terrorists fell.

The little girl ran for her life, Buffy saw a soldier carrying her into the building. The man who was holding her pushed her into the car. The leader of the group shot at his hostage to liberate himself from burden and leapt into the driver's seat. They took off at high speed.

Buffy shivered. She was alone.

*


There were no roads that deserved the name, no plants or animals, just desert and unbearable heat. And it was slowly getting dark. The heat was followed by the cold. Buffy's mouth was dry. She had not had a drop of water for at least two hours. Her light summer dress was sticking to her body with sweat, and now as it was getting darker, she was freezing. The drive took about two more hours until they finally reached an electric fence of barbed wire. The border.

Desperately hoping that her martyrdom was coming to an end, Buffy followed the instruction to get off the car immediately.

The leader shot at a small box on top of the fence, which looked like the control panel of the electric fence.

The man who had taken her hostage gestured at the fence. "Climb," he ordered.

Buffy shook her head. "What if there's still a current?"

The man grinned. "You find out."

"I don't think so," she said. Faced with the gun, she changed her mind.

She tore half her dress and lost a shoe climbing the fence, she bled from many small scratches, but she made it over the fence.

"Welcome to Jahilia," the leader said sarcastically.

"Always meant to come here," Buffy replied. "So. What happens to the car?"

"No car," her captor said and gestured at a group waiting for them in the shadows.

"Friends of yours?" Buffy asked.

He nodded.

"So they have a car."

He laughed.

At least six other men rushed to them, welcoming them like heroes. Now Buffy could see the reason for the laughter. They were not bringing a car, but camels.

*


It was a challenge for an American college student to ride a camel in the Arabic desert, even more so with her hands bound. Within an hour, Buffy felt queasy and sea-sick. From time to time, one of the men leered at her openly, so she tried to cover her body with her bound hands the best she could, which was hopeless since her dress was in shreds. Her fair hair was enough to inspire all kinds of naughty thoughts in those men. Her only consolation was that Dawn and her mother were not here to see this.

The leader of the second group brought his camel next to her. "I'm Mahmoud," he said in a much better English than the others, "I'm in charge here. You must excuse my men. It's been a long time since they've seen a beautiful woman. Some have been away from home for a long time, fighting for our cause."

Buffy eyed him with contempt. "Your cause?"

"The government of Jahannam has taken lands away from my people, invaded our homes. We fight to get them back. Many are in prisons abroad, our brothers, our friends, our sons. We want to bring them home, back to their families."

"By hijacking planes and kidnapping children?" Buffy said hotly.

"I don't say I like fighting," Mahmoud admitted, "But sometimes there's no choice."

Buffy shook her head. "Two of your friends are now dead."

"They will be rewarded in the afterlife. Many more will die in prisons if we don't fight."

"And you get your homes and your families back by ruining the lives of others who have never even bothered you? I have a home, family and friends too! I can’t understand any of this."

He shrugged. "It is not necessary for women to understand politics."

"I don't think Hillary would agree with that," Buffy said.

He frowned. "Who?"

Buffy did not reply.

Mahmoud pointed ahead and said something in his language to his people. Then he nodded at Buffy. "It will be dark in no time. We'll camp for the rest of the night."

*


Buffy was surprised at the skill and speed with which her kidnappers set up camp in the desert. They had brought tents, sleeping bags and dry wood to light a fire in order to keep them warm. Buffy hardly slept. She was shivering, not just from the cold, but from fear. She feared one of the men would decide she was too pretty a prey to leave alone during the night. With her hands and feet bound, she would not have been able to defend herself.

Early in the morning, Mahmoud woke her and lifted her up on the camel. They rode until about midday, when the skyline of a settlement appeared at the horizon.

It had been built around an oasis, and its towers and roofs reminded Buffy of the fairytales of the Arabian Nights. As they rode through the city gates, Buffy saw it was not an apparition, as she had assumed, but a city in the desert. An enchanted place where time apparently stood still. Despite her situation, Buffy took a moment to admire her surroundings. From a high tower, someone sang in a foreign tongue, calling the citizens to pray. In the bazaar, traders were selling exotic herbs, silk veils and clothing, and delicious-smelling fruits Buffy had never seen in her whole life.

"Where are we?" Buffy asked curiously.

He told her the name of the city, which she could not replicate. "It is the capital of the small kingdom we entered last night. We call it Aftab-Rawad, 'The Sunny Dale'," Mahmoud explained.

"You live here?"

He laughed. "No. I'm far from home.

"So am I," Buffy whispered.

"But we can get new supplies and fresh camels."

"I don't reckon there's an US embassy near here?"

Mahmoud did not deign to answer. He had spotted a man selling camels. His men had swarmed out to get water, food and supplies. Mahmoud bought some food for her and cut the rope that held Buffy's hands. Buffy ate down the food hungrily, not really knowing what was being offered and not particularly caring.

Mahmoud started negotiating with the camel trader when a second trader addressed him. He was middle-aged, but his skin looked oddly wrinkled. His clothes looked more expensive than anyone else at the bazaar, his shoes exquisite, and he had twenty strong and beautiful camels with him, which Mahmoud examined very carefully. Buffy had no idea what they were talking about, but the side glances they gave her did nothing to calm her. Finally, Mahmoud nodded, grinning, looking satisfied, and shook the elegant man's hand. The competitor cursed and withdrew.

Mahmoud came to her.

"Had any luck?" Buffy asked.

Mahmoud nodded. Wordlessly, he helped her from the camel. The wrinkled man said something, Mahmoud shrugged. The man sighed, but seemed to agree.

"He says you're too thin," Mahmoud told her, "But that can't be helped now."

"That's none of his business," Buffy said, offended.

"Well, I'm afraid it is, he just bought you."


TBC...

Chapter 2
Arabian Nightmares
Buffy stared at him. "You just got to be kidding me." She saw his serious expression. "You're not kidding." She said wide eyed, holding her head between her hands, looking at everyone and everywhere, searching for an answer, an exit, just anything, she was really getting desperate here.
"Remember what I told you about our cause? He's willing to give us those twenty camels for you, that is a fortune, much more than you are worth to us."
"I'm a US citizen," Buffy protested.
"You were," Mahmoud said, "Now you're a hostage, and in this country, that is little more than a slave. You are very lucky, not many women are considered worth twenty camels."
"You can't leave me here," Buffy pleaded, now beginning to really show how desperate she was, "I'm an American, my government or my parents could pay money for me..." She said, trying that line for the umpteenth time just to see if it worked through their thick skulls…it had to!!
"Your parents can't pay twenty camels' worth, otherwise you would have traveled in First Class. And, trust me, to your government you're already dead." When he saw her desperate expression, he assumed a more gentle tone. "We can't take you into the desert with us. You would not survive a month. You're better off if you go with him."
Buffy glanced at the utterly unattractive man who had bought her. "I can't stay with him! Don't you have a heart? Can't I just go home? I won't tell anyone where you went, I'll tell them you treated me well, please, let me call the embassy at Cairo!"
He shook his head. "Sorry. We cannot afford to lose that much money. Goodbye, heroine. And good luck."
"Name's Buffy!" Buffy shouted after him defiantly, "And I hope you'll fry in hell!"
Mahmoud never looked back as he walked out of her life.
The wrinkled man addressed her in broken English, which oddly made her remember of Tarzan. "Clem is happy to meet you. We go."
"You don't own me!" Buffy shouted.
"No," Clem said, "Clem don't own you, Sheik do." He gestured at a pair of muscular bodyguards who pulled her aside.
"I need to make a phone call," Buffy said, very slowly and clearly, indicating a receiver with her hands, "United States of America. Embassy."
The man shrugged helplessly.
"I must talk to my mother," Buffy pleaded, "She worries!"
He shook his head apologetically and put a hand on her shoulder. "Clem is very sorry."
"Please," Buffy said, almost crying, "I want to go home!"
"Soon," Clem replied, "We're going home. Just one more thing to do."
An assistant stepped forward with a hot iron.
"No!" Buffy screamed and struggled, but she could not prevent being branded with the Sheik's sign like cattle. She felt she would faint from the pain, her skin hurt like a thousand needles were piercing her. She realized she was not going home, and she was not going to get her phone call. She was a slave now. Buffy wished she was dead. It was a first in her life and she wondered how many more firsts she would have to face during this nightmarish tribulation and if it would have an ending, a good one, hopefully.
*
The palace exceeded Buffy's highest expectations. Marble floors, silk curtains and pillows, gold and precious gems decorated the ceilings. The guards pushed her through heavy double doors so violently she stumbled and fell.
She heard light steps on the marble.
"Welcome," a female voice said.
Buffy turned around and saw a veiled woman in expensive black and dark red robes, neck and arms hung with jewels. She nodded at the guards. "Shukran. Roah." Only when the guards had bowed and departed did she lift her veil and look at Buffy. She extended her hand and helped Buffy to her feet.
To Buffy's surprise, the woman's skin was white, rather pale, with sparkling blue-grey eyes. Her hair was black like the feathers of a raven. Her voice didn’t have a mid-east accent.
"Where am I?" Buffy demanded. "Who the hell are you?"
"You're in the harem of Sheik Khari Ahani," the woman replied coldly, looking at her from top to bottom, like scrutinizing merchandise. Hell!! With all the looks she had been receiving and her brand new mark, she was starting to feel like one. "I am his first wife. I am in charge of all the women at the palace. My name is Nargis banu 'i shahla-chashm."
Buffy blinked. "Can you write that down for me?"
The woman gave her an almost compassionate smile. "It translates 'The lady Narcissa with deep eyes', or, less poetic, 'beautiful woman'. For now, you may use my Christian name, Drusilla."
"You're English," Buffy noticed. "Did they kidnap you as well?"
The woman smiled enigmatically. "What we were is of no importance. What is your name, dear?"
"Buffy," Buffy said.
The woman raised a brow. "Short for Elizabeth?"
"Nope. Just Buffy."
She shrugged. "Americans! Well, that can't be helped now, we'll find another name for you."
"I like my name," Buffy protested.
Drusilla ignored her and walked around Buffy in a circle, sizing her up.
Buffy felt suddenly very conscious of the fact that her dress was torn and exposed more of her body than she would want anyone to see.
"Clem made a good choice for the Sheik," she remarked, "He's going to like you. But we will have to find something appropriate for you to wear." She wrinkled her nose. "And a bath."
"I'm not a good cook," Buffy admitted.
Drusilla shrugged. "We have excellent cooks at the palace. You'll eat what they prepare."
"I haven't cleaned marble floors before," Buffy added facing with optimism her future as a slave, thinking maybe, if she behaved she would get a free card out, "But I'm sure someone can show me."
Drusilla raised a brow. "There will be no need for you to do that."
Buffy looked at her in confusion. "But that guy... Clem... He said he'd bought me for the Sheik, as a servant at the palace."
"That is correct."
"Then what exactly am I supposed to do?"
Drusilla did not answer, but gave her an amused, condescending cold smile.
Buffy blushed. "Oh." She took a step back. "No, no way. I'm an American citizen, I'm a free person, and there are laws..."
"You have mistaken your position," Drusilla told her, her tone less friendly and taking a much more dangerous tenor now, while straightening out her back as if denoting her superiority, "It is an honour for you to be chosen."
"I don't want to be 'chosen'," Buffy protested using Drusilla's wording, emphasizing it with her fingers in an all American manner, straightening out also, trying somehow to make up for her lack of stature and showing she was not yet beaten, at least not in spirit.
Drusilla walked up to her and grabbed her chin, forcing Buffy to look into her eyes, digging her long painted fingernails into Buffy's flesh so deeply her skin broke. "Listen, princess," she hissed, "I'm responsible for you now. Any disgrace you cause falls back on me. Believe me, you wouldn't want me for an enemy. So you'd better adjust!"
She let go off Buffy. Buffy was on the verge of tears, but she did not want to give Drusilla that kind of satisfaction.
Drusilla turned away from her. "I'll send some of the girls to bathe and dress you. Quite a few women at the serail speak your language..."
"Our language," Buffy corrected her.
Drusilla shook her head and giggled like a madwoman. "Whatever. He has acquired several American and European women, you will soon feel at home."
Somehow, Buffy doubted that.
*
Drusilla was as good as her word. She sent a whole army of chattering girls to welcome Buffy and introduce her to the life at the palace.
"Marhaba salam alekom, ana ismee Bahramaj," a pretty redhead welcomed her.
"Oh...kay," Buffy murmured.
"Just kidding," she replied, giggling, "I just said: hello, my name is Bahramaj, or, if you prefer, Willow." She embraced Buffy enthusiastically, and then backed away. "Wow, you do need a bath!"
'Well,' Buffy thought, 'try to spend a night riding a camel and then we’ll talk,' but she thought that would be a bit too rude with someone, who at the time, was the first friendly face she has seen since she was forced to leave the plane. "I'm Buffy," Buffy said. "At least currently. Your boss - what's her name again? - indicated she doesn't think it's good enough for your club."
"Don't listen to Dru." Willow looked around anxiously, then, having made sure Drusilla was nowhere to be seen, added: "She's not a friend. We all hate her. She's evil, she's hungry for power because she wants her son to be the next sheik. If you want my advice, stay away from her. She doesn't have a soul."
A quiet girl with dark-blond hair shook her head. "Drusilla's not evil," she disagreed, "I'm sure underneath her cold and treacherous exterior she's a lovely person. She's just jealous. She has lived here for many years, most of us are younger than she is, and..."
"What Tara means," a dark-haired woman, with a figure Buffy would have killed for, summed up, "He knows her C U oN Tuesday."
"Iman!" Tara exclaimed and blushed deeply.
"Faith," Faith corrected her, "I don't go in for Arabic names much, never have, never will. Tongue-twisters are for Dru, English is for the rest of us."
Buffy decided she liked Faith.
"This is the bathroom," Willow explained as they were entering a huge hall with a marble pool which was bigger than the Summers' house back at home. "Soaps, lotions, oils, fresh towels, and a variety of gowns to choose from. Anything a girl would want!"
"How about a phone?" Buffy asked.
Willow smiled apologetically. "You'll adjust. Give us a week, and you won't even want to go home any more. Why don't you just have a bath, it'll make you feel much better already."
Buffy realized it was no use offending the women. They had been very kind to her so far, and obviously they were prisoners here as well, just like her. She forced herself to smile. "Thank you guys," Buffy said, "I think I'll manage just fine from here. So I see you at dinner?"
The women started giggling.
"We're here to help," Willow said.
"I appreciate that," Buffy told her, "But I'd rather be alone."
"And I'd rather be an astronaut or a vampire slayer," Faith replied levelly, "Come on, B, don't be shy. We're a big family." Ignoring Buffy's protests, Faith undressed her unceremoniously.
Willow sensed how uncomfortable the new girl had to be feeling, so she decided to make things easier for her. "I could use a bath, too," she declared, even though she had had a bath in the morning already.
"I could help you," Tara offered shyly.
Willow smiled. "Thanks, I could use a hand."
Buffy watched them suspiciously while Tara slowly undressed Willow and bathed her in the water, then massaging her skin with scented oil. Was it possible that there was more between Tara and Willow than friendship? The sheik had to be a lousy lover if his women sought comfort in each other's arms.
Faith grinned. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too, first time I saw them. But they'd better not act on it or things could get ugly. Rule 1 if you wanna survive here: you get some with the sheik, or you don't get any. Not with yourself, not with one of the others. Or else..." She ran her index finger slowly along her neck to imitate beheading.
"You can't be serious," Buffy said, not sounding as secure as she meant to.
Faith winked at her instead of a reply. "Now, what do we have here?" Faith looked at Buffy, then gestured at a very thin girl with big eyes and mouse brown hair. "Fred, could you get me some hot wax?"
"I had my legs waxed before I left," Buffy protested.
Faith sighed. "Not for your legs, B. Rule 2 if you wanna survive here: absolutely no body hair. Everything that's not on your head, forget it."
Fred brought the wax.
Faith handed Buffy a piece of plain cloth. "You'll want to bite down on this," she said, obviously enjoying the situation. "This may hurt a bit."
*
"I'm thinking... pink," Willow said as they went through the dresses together.
"I'd like something in red, let's say, it would match perfectly the color of my skin?" Buffy suggested sarcastically. Her skin was so sore she could hardly walk.
"Faith should have given you a warning," Willow apologized, "But it'll stop hurting, eventually. Let's give you something to do so you won't think about the pain so much any more." She handed Buffy the pink dress. "There's a mirror."
Buffy tried the dress and was almost shocked at her reflection. The dress was of finest silk and brocade, but it was cut until a few inches above her navel. Merely one third of her breasts was covered by thin fabric which was such a sweet nothing it emphasized her curves rather than concealing them. "I don't know," she said slowly, not wanting to offend Willow, who seemed to love it.
"Don't you like the color? We have green and blue as well," Willow said eagerly, about to turn around to fetch them.
"That's not it," Buffy said, stopping her mid-turn and carefully choosing her next words, "Look, I don't wanna sound bitchy and all, but... it's... deeply cut and really transparent."
"Well, it's summer," Willow said apologetically as if that would explain the lack of material.
"I feel... naked," Buffy told her. "The dress is vulgar."
"Let's see if we can find something else for you," Willow tried to compromise.
That moment, a shadow fell over them.
"I think it's perfect," Drusilla told them. "I picked those dresses for you myself. Shukran, Bahramaj. You may leave." She cast Willow a dirty look as if she was a disgusting bug that had to be disposed of. "You don't have time to change anyway, you have to hurry" she told Buffy. Before Buffy had a chance to ask where she had to hurry, Drusilla stepped forward and cleared her voice.
The girls fell silent.
"Here's today's list," Drusilla said. "Anyanka."
"Yes!" Anyanka exclaimed and hurried from the room.
"Tara."
Tara nodded and silently left.
"Iman."
Faith grinned and walked after them, hips swaying seductively.
"Darla."
A tall woman with blond locks Buffy had not noticed before, but immediately thought of as cold and calculating judging from the cool expression on her blue eyes that somehow had a remarkable resemblance to those of Drusilla’s, left the room.
"And... Buffy," Drusilla said, the way she pronounced her name a comment by itself.
"Where am I supposed to..." Buffy asked.
"Go," Willow whispered, "Follow the others. You're just on the list. I'd say it was to be expected. Don't worry. Oh, and put the veil over your face as you walk through the palace, no other man is supposed to see you unveiled."
Buffy nodded absently.
As the door fell close behind them, Willow buried her face in her hands and sighed.
"It's Buffy's first day. He's not gonna... You don't think he's gonna..." Fred asked her.
"I'm sure he is, Dru styled her like a prostitute," Willow said, very upset. "I'd have hoped he'd give her at least a day or two to adjust."
*
Buffy followed the other women through long corridors, convinced that she would never find her way back alone.
"Where are we going?" she asked Anyanka, who had taken the lead.
Anyanka gestured even further ahead. "To the sheik's reception room."
"What for?" Buffy inquired, not sure she wanted to hear the reply.
Anyanka shook her head. "You're very stupid."
Tara caught up with them. "Anyanka, just in case you haven't noticed, there is something that's called tact."
Anyanka rolled her eyes.
"What's he like?" Buffy asked in a very small voice.
"He's alright," Tara said.
Anyanka did not think that was sufficient information. "His mom was the old sheik's one true love, people say, but because she was a foreigner, some people didn't want Khari as the new sheik. There are rumors that he had his opponents' heads pierced with long iron railroad spikes. Trust me, you'll like him. Sadly, he hardly ever chooses me any more these days, says I'm talking too much."
"Can't figure out why." The woman named Darla put a hand on Buffy's shoulder. "Those are just rumors. If you behave, you won't get into trouble. Now, ladies, place your bets, who will be the Chosen One?"
"I'd like to buy a B," Faith told her. "Five kittens."
Darla made a note. "Check."
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Kittens?"
"It's the only currency we have at the Palace," Tara apologized, "There are many stray cats in the streets, and we're not allowed to have any money on us."
Buffy frowned, obviously disgusted. "What a stupid currency!"
"Want me to lend you a kitten, dear, so you can place your bet? No?" Darla shrugged. "All right. I bet it's Buffy, too."
Anyanka nodded and sighed. "Yeah, probably. Sign me up for another five."
Tara did not place a bet.
They had reached the door. Two guards showed them in and made them queue in front of a curtain that concealed a throne. Only the feet and the hem of a gown could be seen. The sheik was watching them through a small opening in the curtain. His eyes were covered by shadow.
Drusilla was standing at the side of the throne, looking majestic like a queen. She nodded at the other women. "Take your veils off. You may pay your respects now."
One by one obeyed. They stepped forward to kneel in front of the throne and kissed the hem of the sheik's gown. While Tara merely brushed her lips against the fabric very briefly with her eyes cast down, Faith made a show of the gesture and moved her mouth sensuously, licking her lips as she stepped back into the row. "Isn't it HOT in here?" Anyanka announced, using her dress to fan fresh air to her body, and Darla bent lower than necessary to make sure the sheik got a good look at her advantages.
Buffy stood petrified. "I'm not gonna do that," she said. "I'm a US citizen, I demand to speak to my embassy. While I'm waiting, I am entitled to treatment according to the Geneva convention concerning prisoners of war."
There was no reply. Buffy waited anxiously, her heart almost breaking her chest.
Tara froze. What Buffy had just said was enough to get her sentenced to death.
The guards made a move to drag her where she was meant to kneel, but the sheik's hand appeared from behind the curtain. "Estana shoeya. Maalish."
Tara closed her eyes in relief. Wait a moment. Never mind. The guards backed off. He would ignore Buffy's remark and credit her defiance to the fact that it was her first day. But Tara had been at the palace for long enough to know that this was not the end. Khari would make his choice now. She remembered her first day, how she had come to this room, feeling lonely, exposed and frightened to death. He had chosen her. Now she was standing in a row with the other women once again.
He raised his hand, pointing at one of them.
Buffy.
Anyanka smiled at her. "Congratulations, Buffy!"
Faith patted her shoulder. "Congrats, you're a lucky girl!"
Buffy was confused. "What did he say? Do I finally get my phone call?"
"Nope. But you get to sleep with the sheik."
*
"If you keep crying, your eyes will be red and swollen by the time he sees you," Anyanka said dryly.
"Please, stop crying," Willow said desperately, "It's not that bad! You were very lucky he didn't punish you for what you said. He must really like you. That's a good start, isn't it?"
Buffy shot daggers at her. "A phone call would have been a good start. My mother must be worried sick by now, and I'm stuck here in a silken cage! Don't you understand? I don't wanna be here, and I don't wanna be the slave of a chauvinist pig who brands women like cattle!"
"Now you're being unfair," Willow told her, "I've always felt respected."
Buffy shook her head angrily. "Respected? Willow, do you even know what that word means? If you sold your body to men in the streets, I would respect you more! You're lying to yourselves, all of you. You're pretending to be little queens to deceive yourselves over the fact that you're just prostitutes!"
Willow rose, her voice suddenly cool and distant while her eyes were filled with a mixture of hurt and betrayal. "You're upset. I understand that, but I don't have to listen to your verbal abuse. If you want to talk later, you know where to find me."
Again, it was Drusilla who spoke to her. "Are you ready? The sheik is expecting you."
Buffy's eyes were full of tears when she replied: "I'm not sleeping with him."
Drusilla nodded. "Fine. Then you'll die. You're free to choose. But if I were you, I would at least take a look at my options before I did myself in."
Buffy thought she had a fair point.
*
Buffy entered the sheik's quarters silently. On the plane and during her ride across the desert, she had been afraid of being shot, among other things. When you thought things couldn’t get worse, they were, a lot more. It was no longer raining, it was pouring, cats and dogs included, Buffy thought. She really had no idea how she was going to get out of this, and the feeling was getting old, real fast.
She entered the room and heard the doors close behind her. Her palms were wet, her legs shaking, and she had a bad feeling in her stomach.
He was waiting with his back turned to her, facing the window. The setting sun behind him was blinding her, so she could see a little more than a silhouette.
Buffy stood and waited, saying nothing.
"Buffy," he said.
Buffy glared at him. "Right, that's my name, and if you think you can give me another one so I forget my identity, like the other deluded girls in your precious harem build up in a fantasy but oh so chauvinistic world, you're sooo wrong, mister! I meant what I said," she said without any preliminaries, "I'm an American citizen, I have rights, and I want to call my embassy. I'm not afraid of your threats."
He turned around, and Buffy was astonished to see a man with white skin, platinum hair and very blue eyes. Not at all the way she had imagined him to be. Those eyes were stunning. If he had asked her out at the luxurious five star hotel she was supposed to be staying at, she might have even said yes. Who was she kidding?! She would have thanked the powers that be and give them her first child, to have a guy like that noticing her. But returning to her train of thought, the point was she was not at a hotel, not in a free world as it is, and he had never asked her out. He had purchased her like her mother bought marble statues and paintings for the gallery. Her mother, who she would never see again in her life. Buffy felt like crying, but instead, her face went white with anger. Her mother!! He was keeping her away from her mother!! What right did he have?? Apparently every right a sheik could get…
He looked at her for the longest moment, and then gestured at the soft pillows on the floor next to a low table. "Have some tea with me, Buffy."
His serenity was upsetting her even more. "So what?" she said, her heart pounding, "So we can have a little chat before you rape me?"
The words hung in the air for a minute.
Their eyes locked.
Instantly, Buffy regretted her harsh words, but it was too late. What had been said could not be unspoken. She saw his deep blue eyes change. The calmness disappeared within the fraction of a second, giving way to a dark storm of rage. However, his wrath did not show in his voice. "We need to talk," he said matter-of-factly.
"Oh, yeah, is this the part when you tell me that I am chosen, and that it's an honor for me to be here, that I should be happy and grateful and agree contently to your every whim?"
He lay down on the diwan by the window and tilted his head. "Do you think Willow, Anyanka or Faith are unhappy?"
"They don't know better!" Buffy burst out. "Who knows how long they've been here? It's not like a girl gets an education in your country!"
The sheik raised a brow. "Precisely. Sadly, girls are not normally regarded as a blessing for a family here. If you like it or not, without me, some of my women would be out working themselves on the streets, or even worse, dead."
"So you're making whores of your women before anyone else does," Buffy said hotly. "What an altruist you are!"
"I respect every one of them," he explained.
Buffy took a step toward him and bared her arm, showing him the dried blood and burnt skin where she had been branded with his sign. "If this is what you call respect...", she said with tears threatening to fall in her eyes and voice cracking, remembering the ordeal.
"It will heal," he said softly, "There will be nothing left but thin lines, like a tattoo, a little whiter than your skin."
"I'm not gonna listen to this bullshit any longer," she said. "Let's get this done, so you can lock me up again and call another one of your slaves."
He did not move, just shook his head very lightly.
"What are you waiting for?" she challenged as she started to unfasten her dress.
His hand caught her wrist. He had jumped up so fast she hadn't seen him make a move, and stood right before her. "Stop that," he said in a low voice, his tone threatening and dangerous.
"Don't touch me," Buffy hissed.
He let go off her hand. "I wouldn't touch you if you begged for it."
"Great, 'cos that's so not gonna happen! Finally we're getting somewhere".
He backed away. "You may withdraw."
"Good." Buffy turned and rushed for the door before he changed his mind.
"Not so fast," he said sharply. "I have a question for you first." He paused. "Will you give me an answer, or is that against your feminist code of honour?"
Buffy stared at him angrily. "Fine. If you answer me a question first."
He leaned back on the diwan. "Fire away."
"Why are you here? I mean, look at you, you're whiter than me, your eyes are..." [gorgeous] "...blue, and I bet Khari Ahani isn't your name either!"
He chuckled, suddenly some of the anger seemed to dissipate from his contained face. "You're right, it isn't the name my mother gave me. She was an English woman, she came here when my father was the sheik. She was his favourite. Khari Ahani is a nickname I was given after I had succeeded my father as sheik, because of an… unfortunate occurrence in my past. Khari Ahani means 'Spike'."
Buffy felt a chill. So it was true what Anya had said. There are rumors that he had his opponents' heads pierced with long iron railroad spikes.
"Does that answer your question?"
Buffy nodded, her throat tight.
"Good." Spike looked at her intently. "Now I have a question for you."
Buffy waited, fidgeting somewhat, anxious to get out of his chambers.
His gaze traveled over her whole body, resting at her eyes. He rose from the diwan and walked up to her, stopping mere inches from her, so close she could feel his body heat. "Would you consent to have sex with me if I let you call your family?"
Buffy shivered. Was he actually considering letting her go? She looked into his eyes, his expression was unreadable. For a moment she imagined what it would be like just to close her arms around him, to feel his lips on hers, just for one night, and then return home from her 'adventure'. "I guess," she barely whispered.
"So who's making you a whore, me or you?"
Buffy stared at him, eyes a mere slit. "You have no conception of how much I hate you," she hissed and ran from him.
"Buffy," he called after her.
She stopped, tears streaming down her face. She could not turn around, she would not let him see her cry. "What?" she managed to say in a hoarse voice.
"When you get back to the serail, tell Anyanka I'd like some company."
"Of course," Buffy said in mock obedience, "She'll be honored."
*
"I want to know where my daughter is!" Joyce Summers insisted.
"We're doing our best, Mrs. Summers," the Chief of Police tried to placate her, "Authorities in all major cities and border personnel have been informed. We have your address at your hotel in Cairo. There is nothing you can do here. We will let you know as soon as we get more information."
"My daughter has been kidnapped!" Joyce said angrily. "A white, blonde, green eyed American girl can't just disappear in this country!"
"You'd be surprised," he muttered under his breath, obviously not loud enough for her to listen. "The pilot and two hostages were severely injured, the two hijackers we were able to arrest are still in intensive care and will not be available for questioning in the next few hours if at all. We have to prevent their henchmen from shutting them up before they get a chance to sing. This is not Cairo, Mrs. Summers, this is just a small town. At the moment, I cannot spare any more men to search for your daughter."
Joyce looked at him with despair. "Do you have any children?"
The chief nodded. "Two sons, eight and ten. And a daughter, five."
She squeezed his hand.
He sighed. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you."
*
Buffy was sobbing heavily when she returned to the others.
Dru and Darla exchanged meaningful looks. Darla extended her hand, Dru bestowed her with two kittens. Darla smiled, pleased with herself, and withdrew.
"What was that about?" Buffy asked.
Tara cast her eyes down. "Darla bet you would be crying when you returned."
"Great," Buffy commented and let herself fall down on the pillows.
Willow was sitting nearby, hugging her knees. She gave Buffy a compassionate look, but did not say anything.
Buffy felt sorry about her outburst. There was no point in offending the only allies she had in this world. She crawled over to her new friend. "Will, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to..."
"That's alright," Willow said hesitantly, still a little offended.
"So... we're friends again. Right?"
Tara gave her an encouraging look and squeezed Willow's hand.
Willow took a deep breath, smiling for the first time since she arrived. "Right."
"Thanks," Buffy said with relief and hugged Willow.
Willow pushed her away. "Remember the rules," she whispered, "No touching. I don't want anyone to think...y'know."
"Right." Buffy thought that in Willow's shoes, she would worry more about holding Tara's hand in public than about Buffy's harmless hug. Still, Buffy felt uneasy. All eyes were on her. Then she remembered what she was previously ordered to do. "Anyanka, he asked me to tell you he wants to see you."
Anyanka's eyes widened with a joy and lust that Buffy was sure she would never be able to achieve even if she tried. "And you couldn't have said that when you came in?" She jumped up and hastened to look at her image in the mirror. "My hair! Is my hair alright?"
Faith grinned. "Worry about your hair when he's done with you."
Anyanka put on some jewels and perfume. "Don't stay up for me," she said and hurried out.
Faith sat down between Buffy, Tara and Willow. "And now I want details."
Buffy blinked. "Details?"
"Yeah," Faith said, "About Spike's little spike, or should I say not so little..."
Buffy blushed. "We didn't... I mean, I didn't have... I said I wouldn't, and he didn't..."
"You wouldn't? You're not being serious, B!" Faith burst out, gesturing at Willow, "Even Lady Dyke here makes an exception for him!"
Willow looked around anxiously. "There are better words than that, Faith," she chided, "And I'm not gay!"
Instead of an answer, Faith looked at the joined hands of Willow and Tara with an amused smirk, causing Willow to immediately withdraw her hand, making them blush with a sheepish look crossing their faces.
Faith looked at her innocently behind long lashes. "Whatever you say, Wills." To Buffy's dislike, Faith focused on her again. "So, B, how long have you known you're a lesbo?"
"I'm not gay," Buffy protested, looking so shocked Faith immediately believed her.
Faith stared at her. "You're a virgin! Haven’t had those around for a while."
Buffy blushed even deeper. "I have had sex before," she said a little too loudly, while looking around anxiously.
Faith shrugged. "Well, let's hear about that, then. Let me guess. One big love, great fireworks?"
"I've had two long-term relationships," Buffy announced proudly, "And a one-night stand!"
"Big deal," Faith replied, unimpressed. "Were they any good?"
Buffy thought about it for a moment. "With Angel, everything was perfect. At least until he wanted to have sex. Then everything changed." A shadow fell over her face. "It didn't work out. He left. He called from time to time, and we saw each other once or twice, but it really wasn’t the same. Even though he was my first love, I could never fall back into that self-destructing from too much brooding relationship again."
"So, how about door number two?" Faith asked.
"Riley was great. He was reliable, honest, sweet... But something was missing."
"The beast in him," Faith suggested, eyes sparkling.
Buffy looked at her skeptically.
"Something wild," Faith explained, "The fire, B! But I don't understand you, if what you want is a little adventure, some passion, why did nothing happen in there?"
"I hate him," Buffy said defiantly.
Faith shrugged. "Why? Has he done anything, or made you do anything weird?"
Buffy shook her head.
"So what's your problem?"
Buffy jumped from the pillow. "What's MY problem?" She showed her the burn on her arm. "THAT's my problem!" along with some freedom and sex related others, Buffy thought, but she kept that to herself.
"It will heal." Faith showed her arm. Buffy could see the scar had faded, that there was merely a thin white line on Faith's tanned skin.
Buffy shook her head. "And you're happy with that? That's good enough for you?"
"Five by five."

TBC...
I live for feedback!

The Favourite
by Charlie
Synopsis: AU. When Buffy is on her way to a vacation with Joyce and Dawn, their plane is hijacked, and Buffy is taken hostage. She ends up in a very foreign, Arabian Nights-like country and is sold into slavery. Guess who buys her...
Disclaimer: This story is based on ideas from the French novel "La Nuit du Sérail" by Michel de Grèce. No copyright infringement intended. The names and places are entirely ficticious and do not refer to any real countries, political or social situations, religious or ideological beliefs. The language spoken in the ficticious country is based on several different Arabic languages.
Rating: NC-17. Seriously. The story begins with the hijacking of a plane. There is violence, humiliation and other adult content. Please go elsewhere if you're underage or sensitive to this kind of material.
Chapter 3
Unveiled

Anyanka did not return to the serail until noon the next day. As Faith had predicted, her hair was messed up, her clothes crumpled, but nothing could wipe up the satisfied grin from Anyanka's face for the whole day.
"What else do you girls do in here all day, apart from all this prettiness routine?" Buffy asked Willow, after spending several hours of beauty care, wellness and doing a little gymnastics.
Willow shrugged. "That’s our fun essentially. But we can take a walk in the sun if you’d like, it’ll give me a chance to show you the gardens. But don't forget your veil. You know, if another man sees you without it, he'll lose his head - literally!"
Buffy took her veil, this time blue, as her dress. Apart from her face, the long silk veil also hid everything else the dress revealed, so Buffy welcomed the obligation to wear a veil outside the harem.
She followed Willow down the marble staircase into the gardens. They were greeted by guards and servants and treated, Buffy secretly had to admit, with utmost respect.
"Bahramaj!" a small voice called behind them.
Willow and Buffy turned around. Willow smiled and waved at him.
"Hey there," she said softly, still smiling.
Buffy saw a boy standing near the fountain in the garden, holding a rose. He was about six years old. His golden hair and bright blue eyes, which were slightly covered by the cutest of eyeglasses, left no doubt whose son he was.
"Buffy, I'd like you to meet Khari junior," Willow said, only confirming Buffy's assumption.
Buffy stared at her.
Willow giggled. "No, it’s not what you think! He's Dru's son." She lowered her voice. "Poor child." Quickly, she turned her head readdressing him, "How's school?" Willow beamed at him.
The boy made a sad little face, lowering his eyes. "I don't like the new English teacher," he said, "He only brings stupid books no one wants to read."
"And what did he make you read that was so awful?" Willow asked curiously.
"I don’t remember the title but it’s about a girl that is separated from her sister, then follows a white rabbit, falls into a hole and gets trapped in a strange country where everything's weird and people do funny things and everyone acts like she's the lunatic, but she's the only sane person, and,…and, whenever she makes a mistake, someone shouts 'Off with the head!'," Khari told them in one long breath, "A bit far-fetched, if you ask me."
Buffy shrugged. "I wouldn’t know." Wondering if the tale really was as unbelievable as he thought, because for all she knew, they would be calling her Alice soon enough.
"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," Willow said enthusiastically, "If you’d like, we can read it together! Buffy, wouldn't that be fun?"
Khari junior looked at Buffy. "You're Buffy."
Buffy blinked. "Yeah. So?"
"My dad talks about you."
Buffy tried to look disinterested. "Does he, now?"
Khari junior nodded. "He says you don't like him."
"Damn right!" Buffy exclaimed and was immediately punished by an elbow and a reproachful look from Willow.
The boy's blue eyes were full of questions. "Why?"
Buffy looked at him helplessly. How was she supposed to explain her situation to an innocent child? "He's not nice... he's mean to me," she said lamely.
Khari shrugged. "He likes you. Why do you think he's mean?"
Buffy sighed. "He doesn't let me phone my mom."
"Oh." Khari's face lit up, and he added timidly. "I have a phone in my room, m-m-maybe y-y-you could use it, and then you'd like my dad better?"
Buffy smiled, her heart beating wildly, while trying not to show how excited his naïve request made her. "That'd be nice," she said.
Willow put a hand on her shoulder. "Buffy, please," she said uneasily, "We're not allowed into that part of the palace, and for a good reason!"
Buffy ignored her and took Khari junior's hand. "Would you like to show me where your room is?"
He beamed. "Sure!"
Suddenly, Willow pushed her elbow into Buffy's ribcage and gestured at the balcony above them, where Dru had appeared.
"Honey, don't you have homework to do?" she asked in a cold voice.
Khari junior hung his head, letting go of Buffy’s hand, as it fell limply to his side. "Yes, Ma'am."
"Go to your room. I'm sure Buffy and Willow are very busy, so let us not disturb them. You have an hour. Then I'll come upstairs and check what you’ve accomplished." Drusilla waited until Khari had waved good-bye to the girls and had gone inside, to give one last dirty look to them. Then, just like she had appeared, she withdrew.
"Bitch," Willow whispered.
Buffy nodded absently. So there were telephones at the palace after all. If she played her cards right, she might get a hold on one. But that would probably require some compromise.
*
It was no surprise to Buffy that, yet again, she was amongst the chosen five the sheik asked to see - this time, with Willow, Fred, a green-eyed blonde called Amy and a girl with dark skin and a lovely accent, Kendra - and that, once again, his hand pointed straight at her.
Buffy strolled into his bedroom very casually, when she heard voices. She remained discreetly at the door in order to assess the situation, when she saw Spike and Khari junior bent over a blue exercise book with clumsy drawings of a thunderstorm.
"It is just two layers of air, with different temperatures, one hot, one cold," she heard Spike say. "So, when the two meet, there's trouble. See?"
Khari junior nodded. "Like you and Buffy."
Spike smiled at his son. "You're very clever for your age." He handed Khari's exercise book back to him. "And now you'd better go to bed, it's late."
"Night, dad."
"Good night."
Involuntarily, Buffy had to smile as she was watching the two of them. Khari stopped when he saw Buffy. "Night, Aunt Buffy," he said.
Buffy bent down to him. "Sweet dreams," she said and brushed over his hair with her hand.
Khari kissed her cheek and left, closing the door behind him.
Spike sat down on the diwan. "Can I kiss you, too?" he asked with a smirk.
"Nope," Buffy said curtly.
"Ah, of course, it's because I'm not nice, because I'm mean," he replied ironically.
"He's just a child," Buffy answered, "What was I supposed to say, that I don't like his father because he treats women like objects?"
Spike frowned. "Is that your impression?"
Buffy lifted her chin. "Oh, yes."
"Come here," he told her.
For a moment, Buffy considered refusing, but she thought the better of it. If she wanted a chance to get access to Khari junior's room, she would need at least a truce with his father. Being locked up in the serail while having all her privileges, like, for instance, moving freely within the premises, taken away, was the last thing she wanted right now, especially when she was so close to get what she wanted. So she obeyed.
"I like your dress," Spike told her.
Buffy had to admit she preferred the dark blue one to the pink version; it was darker, heavier and more richly decorated with gold and pearls, so she no longer felt as exposed as she did when she wore the pink one. She bowed her head. "Thanks."
"Take it off."
Buffy stared at him.
"You said that I treat women like objects, so you shouldn't be surprised at my request," he said dryly. "So, what are you waiting for? Take. It. Off". He added with a slight menacing tone.
Buffy did her best not to look scared or worried, but she failed. "You promised..." she began.
"What I said still goes," Spike replied, sounding almost bored, "But as a customer, I have the reserving right to take a closer look at the... bits and pieces I purchase. Now take off your dress. And don’t make me repeat myself once again, because, mmmm, let’s say, you wouldn’t be pleased with the consequences."
Buffy hesitated. The room was brightly lit, he would be in an excellent position to see every detail of her body if she took off her dress. Her hands were shaking badly while she was taking off her veil and undoing the buttons of her dress. He was watching her every move, his eyes fixed on her body. Her nipples showed through the silk, he did not take his eyes off of her as if afraid to lose every single detail; while anticipating to see her naked within the next moment.
Buffy suddenly froze in the movement as she became aware of his wolfish smile. She crossed her arms in front of her body. Compromise, yes. Surrender, no. "I said you can't treat me like an object, so you shouldn't be surprised I'm not gonna favor you with it. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
She expected him to send her away as he had done the night before.
He was not as predictable as she once thought.
Spike rose, his eyes flashing.
For a moment, Buffy feared she had upset him enough to punish her this time.
Then he unfastened his blue dressing gown and let it drop to the floor.
Buffy held her breath.
His figure was more athletic than she would have suspected. Collarbones as sharp as his cheekbones, strong arms, the perfect amount of muscle wherever she looked, and smooth, pale skin shining like a Greek statue in the moonlight.
If he noticed her admiration, he did not comment on it.
She stood there and drew in his sight like some particularly impressive artwork.
Only when he spoke her name, she was released from the enchantment. 'Keep focused, Buffy!! Stop ogling his awesome, sexy body – No, no!! bad, bad Buffy. He’s just a mean man, so please, just, stop staring!!' Buffy pleaded with herself in an internal battle, while trying to regain some composure. She blushed as she remembered what she was supposed to do.
Her dress fell to the ground.
The journey through the blazing hot sun of the desert had left her skin tanned and made a beautiful contrast with her blond hair. He noticed with a frown that, as a matter of fact, it was all the hair she had left.
When Buffy noticed his gaze, she turned away, blushing, oh god, once again. "That was so not my idea!"
"Foam?" Spike asked with a hopeful tone.
"Wax," she replied quietly.
"Ouch."
"Yeah, very ouch."
Spike did not remain where he was, he walked around her in a circle.
Buffy felt exposed to his eyes, but at the same time it aroused her to be watched that closely by a handsome, naked man who obviously desired her so.
He walked behind and around her, moving his gaze along her neck and down to her shoulders, tracing her spine with his eyes, taking in the scent of her. Buffy felt adored, worshipped. This was ridiculous. He could fool the others, but not her, no siree, no!! She would not fall for those innocent yet devilish blue eyes, the affection denoted in his voice when he talked to his son, his witty responses in their verbal dueling, his adorable backside, his strong arms, his long hard... Making an internal resolve, and be damned the consequences, Buffy turned around and pulled him close, kissing him hard.
Spike chuckled into her mouth and held her at a short distance. "Easy," he said in a velvety voice and gestured at the diwan. "Would you lie down for a minute, please?"
Buffy sank down on the diwan, saw him towering above her and closed her eyes.
She heard him kneel down at the foot of the diwan.
It took Spike an enormous effort of will to take his time to watch her lying there, with her lips parted, her bosom heaving with small aroused intakes of air, her legs spread, moisture glistening on her thighs.
Buffy felt the wetness between her legs, which was an undisputable signal of her arousal. When Spike did not touch her, she opened her eyes.
He was still at the foot of the diwan, gazing at her.
Buffy licked her lips nervously. "Like what you see?"
"How about you?"
Buffy smiled. "Thought you wanted a good-night kiss as well."
Spike looked at her with hungry eyes as if he was to make a feral move on her at any second. Then, as if unfazed by the fact that he had a beautiful, naked, and more importantly, willing woman in front of him, he rose. "I'm not Khari, no need to kiss me good-night." He grabbed his dressing gown and covered himself, and then dejectedly, he tossed at Buffy her dress. "I've seen what I wanted to see. Close the door on your way out."
Buffy looked at him in disappointment, not fully understanding what had occurred just then. She rose from the diwan, still naked, and took a step in his direction. "I thought you might be in for more," she said boldly.
Spike smiled at her apologetically. "Y'know, Buffy, I'm afraid you're treating me like an object." He sighed. "Want, take, have --- sorry, I'm not that kind of man."
Buffy glared at him. "Alright," she growled, "I had a weak moment, I hope you’ve enjoyed it, cos that's all you’re ever gonna get from me!" She made to storm from the bedroom.
He grinned. "Buffy, could you tell Willow I would like to see her?"
She stared at him. "You're not being serious!"
He tilted his head, while raising his left eyebrow. "Jealous?"
"In your dreams!" Buffy snorted. "I'll send her in."
"Oh, and, Buffy?"
Her eyes flashed angrily. "Yes?"
"Save her some breakfast. And some lunch, maybe."
She tilted her head. "Sorry to break it to you, but you can never last that long."
He shrugged. "Too bad you won't be here to find out."
"Yeah. Too bad," Buffy said sarcastically and fled to the security of the serail.
She tried to sound indifferent when she told Willow about Spike's request to see her.
Tara looked crestfallen.
Willow looked surprised, almost scared. "Me? Are you sure?"
Buffy nodded.
Willow glanced at Tara. "Sorry, this is so sudden... it's been a long time... Well, see you in the morning, huh?"
Tara gave her a watery smile.
Willow squeezed her hand and hurried out.
Buffy watched her go. If Tara and Willow were just friends, she was Winnie the Pooh.
"Don't tell me nothing happened!" Faith exclaimed in what sounded much like frustration, "What is wrong with you?"
Buffy could not bring herself to admit that Spike had been playing her and held her head high. "You know what I think about your ways."
Faith grabbed a fruit and lay back into the pillows, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh, "Because you don't know our ways," she said, sucking the juice of the fruit, and gestured at the door. "You know what's going to happen in his bedroom? First, he'll sit down with Willow and talk to her. He'll casually run his fingers through her hair, touch her hand, ask her what she's been up to, locking his gaze with hers."
"I don't wanna hear it," Buffy refused.
Faith ran her tongue over the fruit, licking up some more juice. "Then he leans over the table, slowly approaching her, kisses her neck, her shoulders, her ears. His lips brush hers, like accidentally, tentatively, exploring, maybe like a woman would kiss... till she kisses him back." Faith began to squirm where she sat. "Then he'll slowly undress her, he feels her tits under his hands and works them till her nipples are so hard and sensitive she feels his lightest touch..."
"Faith..." Tara said, very quietly, but with an edge to her voice.
Faith ignored her. "I can see them, they're naked, both of them, she spreads her legs for him, his head is between her thighs, his tongue circles her clit because that is precisely what Willow wants, she's not much for the act, for the rough and tumble, she wants him down there, driving her crazy with his tongue, she screams, she grabs the sheets with her hands when she comes, then he uses his index finger on her, and Willow comes harder..."
Tara jumped up and ran from the room, tears streaming down her face.
Buffy shook her head in disbelief. "Faith, you're a..."
Faith kept talking. "He knows what he's doing, and he’ll do it all night long... He drives his tongue in and out of her folds, while his fingertips keep toying her clit, mercilessly, until Willow's hoarse with screaming, her wetness is all over his face, and then he kisses her so she gets a taste of herself on his lips, and Willow no longer cares if her lay's a man or a woman, as long as she gets her lust completely and utterly sated." Faith took a deep breath and sank back into the pile of pillows behind her. "Oh, God, I need a cold shower!"
Buffy was disgusted with Faith, but she also needed a cold shower.
*
The images Faith had conjured up in her head kept haunting Buffy all night. She heard Tara's soft breathing next to her and could tell the calm girl was not getting any sleep either. She pitied her because she imagined what Tara had to be going through, not knowing what Willow was doing with Spike, or rather, knowing it all too well because he was her lover, too. She had to be burning in jealousy. Buffy hated to admit how jealous she, herself, was, how much she was longing to be in Willow’s place. With Angel, she had been too young to dare to try the things Faith had suggested, and Riley had always claimed he could not breathe when he was going down on her. What was she thinking? Getting back to reality was like a slap in the face, for Spike still was her kidnapper, and, what was worse, he had humiliated her, rejected her as a woman, the worst offense anyone could do, because it was such a sensitive, intimate part of her soul, and to top it all off, he had dared to make fun of her. Next to her, she heard Tara cry herself to sleep and her heart went to her.
*
It was well past midday when Willow returned to the harem. Buffy had indeed saved her some food, but Willow insisted she was too tired to eat and preferred to lie down. Tara followed her like a shadow, bringing a nightgown and making her comfortable. Willow smiled at her gratefully before she drifted off to sleep.
Buffy asked Tara if she cared for a walk in the gardens, but since Tara meant to stay in - just in case Willow woke up and needed anything -, Buffy went outside alone.
She was delighted when she spotted Khari junior under a tree, again busy with his homework, his nose buried deeply in a book.
"Need some help?" Buffy asked casually.
He looked up at her and grinned. "Buffy," he said, "Where's Willow?"
Buffy felt the heat rise in her face. "Upstairs," she replied, "She's tired."
He frowned. "Now? Why?"
Determined to change such a dangerously NC-17 subject to unscathed ears, Buffy settled down in the shade with him. "Still reading Alice?"
"Yeah," Khari sighed, "My teacher wants me to draw a picture of my favourite scene in the book, but I can't think of any! What's your favourite?"
Buffy thought for a moment, then replied: "When Alice opposes the evil Queen!"
Khari nodded eagerly and began to sketch two women. He searched his pencils, then sighed. "Can't find a red one. Have to go upstairs, I got more colours on my desk."
Buffy jumped to her feet. "Why don't you just stay out here in the sun, and I'll go get your pencils for you?"
"If you like," Khari agreed, "You go in through the main door, then two flights of stairs to the left, down the corridor and turn right first chance you get. My room is the one with the golden ornaments. The pencils are in the top drawer."
"Got it."
Buffy strolled past the guards very slowly, her heartbeat racing. Khari had a telephone in his room. If she could make it there, she would be home in no time. The trouble was how to make it there - the women of the harem were not allowed into the children's bedrooms except under the observation of one of the guards or the eunuchs. The first flight of steps was unguarded, but Buffy knew there were bound to be at least two guards near the room of the sheik's firstborn child. What she needed was a diversion.
She rearranged her veil and ran up the second flight of stairs. Showtime!
The first guard was about to tell her she was not allowed into this part of the palace when Buffy shouted: "The sheik's son slipped and fell out in the garden, he's bleeding! Get some help!"
The guards exchanged a few words, then the first guard raced down the stairs towards the direction Buffy had indicated.
But the second guard remained in place. And Buffy hardly had the time to get rid of him. His colleague would soon see that she had been lying.
So Buffy held her hand to her forehead. "All the blood," she exclaimed and swayed, "I don't feel well!" She sank down on the stairs and closed her eyes.
The guard was by her side in a second. He felt her pulse, but Buffy pretended to be unconscious. Assuming she had hit her head, the guard took down the stairs as well.
With him out of sight, Buffy followed the corridor and found that the door to Khari's bedroom was guarded by a single bodyguard, who was standing by the door. At the other side of the door, a heavy vase caught Buffy's eye. Now or never.
She walked up to the door.
"Women are not allowed here," the guard said sternly, "Go back."
Buffy hesitated only for a moment, then took off her veil.
The guard shrank back and turned from her, knowing if he saw her unveiled, he would be sentenced to death. Buffy grabbed the vase and smashed it on his head. The vase broke into a thousand pieces, the guard went down, unconscious.
"Sorry," Buffy said with regret and burst into the room.
Her heartbeat almost stopped.
On the mahogany desk, there was a very authentic-looking and very stylish... toy telephone.
Despair washed over Buffy. She burst into tears.
Suddenly, there were loud steps behind her.
"That vase was worth twenty million US dollars," Spike informed her.
Buffy -- make up smudged from her tears -- stared at him in terror.
TBC...

Chapter 4: Crime and Punishment
Buffy's heart deeply sank when a group of guards appeared behind Spike, avoiding looking directly at her but aiming, all the same, their weapon in her direction. There was no way to escape. No way was she ever going to get that close to freedom again.
Spike shook his head slightly. "I can't say I'm surprised. I expected you would try something stupid, but..."
"This is not what it looks like," Buffy defended herself, "I was just..."
"...knocking out my guard with a vase, a 20 million dollar vase I might add, in order for you to call your mother with my son's toy phone?" Spike did not sound like he found the situation in the least amusing. His expression was unreadable, his voice icy. "Buffy, you didn't fancy me that stupid as to let a five-year-old near a real telephone, did you?"
"Believe me, this isn’t what it looks like," Buffy repeated. Wait a minute. Buffy blinked her tears away and lifted her chin defiantly, trying not to be affected by the harsh tone his voice had acquired. Why was she even trying to justify her actions when she was the one who had been wronged?
"You've offended me and my house, you've injured one of my guards, and you’ve used my clueless, naive son as a mean to escape from the palace. I thought I could forgive you anything, but using and abusing my son’s trust and friendship, that was an all time low. Do you have any idea how worried I was when I heard that my son had been injured? I can't just let you walk away."
"YOU were worried? Good! Because it's your own fault," Buffy exploded, "You seem to have a very selective memory, mister! I asked you for a phone so I could call my mother, and you denied it to me! To add insult to injury, you dangle the possibility of that same phone call in front of my nose, only so you can prove yourself and to me, how desperate I’m becoming for it. That I would do anything, ANYTHING! So I can have. Just. One. Phone. Call. Even to play the harlot, with you, of all…argg!!!. But you enjoyed my despair, didn't you? And that's all that matters to you, your own sick fun. Guess you proved that last night when I turned to you for comfort," she added bitterly.
Spike arched an eyebrow at her. "You turned to me for sex, Buffy. There's a difference."
Buffy was getting furious. Especially because she knew there was a grain of truth in his statement. During her first week in college, she had tried to dull the pain of the breakup with Angel by throwing herself at the next available cute guy, and although she had sworn never to do anything that stupid again, she had found herself lonely and naked in the wrong man's bedroom, once again. And what was worse: he had seen right through her.
There was no denying the fact that she was…is attracted to Spike from the first moment, regardless of the fact that he had acquired her like a trophy and held her captive. She wondered permanently, how could she even think of him that way when the circumstances were so wrong? What did having those feelings towards such an obviously soulless person say about her? She closed her eyes in shame, and personally, she preferred blaming it all to the hormones. If she could only let it mess strictly with her head! But, no, she seemed perfectly capable of accepting his advances, justifying her actions by the slim chance it might get her what she wanted. How much of a difference was there to the random prostitute? No offense and all, but he seemed on the specific intent to make her feel that way, to despise herself to the point where she would crack and let her become his. But all the anguish and loathing she had suppressed until now to make her situation feel less painful broke to the surface at once.
Buffy glared at him. "And you have the guts to tell me I have offended you? You think you're so smart, asking me who was making me a whore, you or myself. There's only one answer to this." She looked straight into his eyes. "You. With your words and your actions, you're making me a whore every single moment."
"What you've done is enough to get you sentenced to death in this country," Spike said levelly, ignoring completely her rambling.
"Fine, so kill me," Buffy replied in defiance, head held high, though the trembling of her voice and the tears forcing their way through Buffy's self-control, betrayed her. "It doesn't matter either way. I'm your property, am I not? - I'm as good as dead already! But let me promise you one thing: if you give me the tiniest bit of a chance to escape from you, your pack of willing sex puppets and your silly little power games again, I will take it. Every. Single. Time!"
He glowered at her. "I'm going to devise the punishment I see fit." Without another word, he addressed the guards. Buffy had not picked up much of the language yet, but she understood enough to know that he wanted them to take her downstairs and gather the women somewhere. Two guards stood, one at each side of Buffy, implacably cold, staring ahead, then proceeded to take Buffy's arms, lifted her up in the air and dragged her past Spike.
The look she gave him was somewhere between despair and contempt. "So you're gonna set an example out of me, huh?"
To her surprise, he cast his eyes down and could not hold her gaze.
*
By the time the women had gathered in the reception room, every single one of them knew what had happened. Buffy caught Willow's frightened stare and saw her squeezing Tara's hand. She could see the expression of shock on all of the women's faces, well, almost, since she had noticed Drusilla's condescending smile when the guards dragged her into the room and made her kneel in front of the sheik.
Spike still did not look at her when he talked to the crowd. "You have been found guilty of deception, violence, destruction of private property and treason. In such a case, there is no other choice but capital punishment."
A cry of shock and horror went through the rows of women. Willow almost fainted.
Buffy closed her eyes. It was over. Her ordeal would end here. And, for a moment, she was at peace, which was a relief actually, after all of the trauma and constant worry she had been put through. But, the peace only lasted a moment, for her sheer sense of survival kicked in again soon enough, making her even more frightened.
"However, given that you have only been in this country for such a short time and are not used to our ways, I will attribute your actions to your long journey, the unusual climate, and your homesickness. The guard will be well soon, your attempts to flee have been futile, and no one else has been harmed. What we still have is trespassing and a broken vase. These are classified as minor offences and are to be punished according to our laws." He took a deep breath. "Your punishment is ten strokes with a chachurgha."
"No!" Willow collapsed in Tara's arms, pure horror etched in her face.
Tara gently stroked her hair, but her eyes had an expression of dread.
Buffy looked around in confusion. She had no idea what they were talking about.
Two guards dragged Buffy to her feet and lifted her arms. Looking up, Buffy noticed for the first time, that there was a heavy iron hook in the ceiling. She gasped as steel handcuffs on a chain secured both wrists and left her hanging there.
She was facing the wall, but was able to see the others if she turned her head. She wished she hadn't. They were holding onto each other, trembling, terrified, some averting their eyes. Drusilla licked her lips in expectation. Whatever was coming, it was turning that bitch on.
Darla's lips curled into an almost amused smile.
Buffy shivered as Spike stepped behind her and tugged her dress down, leaving her back exposed. The room was not cold, but Buffy felt the draught.
"As I am the offended one, it is my right and my obligation to exercise justice." He walked around her and extended his hand. One of the guards brought him the instrument he had waited for. Buffy realized what a chachurgha was: a vicious-looking braided leather whip.
"I should have known you'd enjoy that kind of thing, pervert" Buffy whispered derisively between clenched teeth. She was not going to give him the satisfaction to see her cry in front of his whole harem. Once again, she blinked away her tears and looked at him. What she saw cut her like a knife inside. His stormy blue eyes were devoid of the fury and vengeance she had expected. He looked hurt, disappointed.
Spike did not reply and took his place behind her, where she could no longer see him.
Dru walked to his side like a shadow, taking his robes to allow him more movement. She ran her fingers over his arms casually as she took the robe and whispered in his ear, but loudly enough for Buffy to hear: "If she won't scream for you, I will, later tonight."
Buffy was so disgusted she wanted to vomit. She heard the rustling of leather in the air as Spike unfolded the whip.
Buffy closed her eyes.
Spike had to fight to keep his voice and hand steady. "One," he said clearly.
"Wait," a female voice said, and a dark hand closed gently around his wrist.
It made Buffy crazy not to see what was going on. The blow and the mind-numbing pain she had expected did not come, there was a death silence, and she could not see what was going on behind her back.
Spike let the whip sink.
Kendra looked at him shyly, it was visible it had taken all her courage to walk up to him like that. She let go off his hand and kneeled down, her forehead touching the floor.
"You may rise," he said, confused. "What's the matter, Kendra?"
"You have been wronged, my lord," Kendra said quietly, "It is your right to demand compensation. You said so yourself. But you also said Buffy has not found her way to us yet. If you punish her now for what she did, this door may close forever. I can see she is my sister. When I look at her, I see myself four years ago, right after I first came here. If you break her today, she will never see you in a different light; never see you for what you really are: a wonderful and caring husband. So, for you, I am willing to take her punishment for her."
Buffy turned her head, but could not move enough to see Kendra. "Listen, Kendra, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but it's not an option, I..."
"Shut up," Kendra snapped, "I'm talking to my husband."
Had the situation not been so tense, Buffy's expression of surprise might have seemed comical.
Spike regarded Kendra with a mixture of admiration and amusement.
Kendra could see the understanding in his eyes and knew immediately she had won him over. At the same time, realization hit her that her sudden heroism might not feel as good when she would be unable to sleep from the pain, for the next few weeks.
"So am I," Willow said and stepped forward, joining Kendra. "Five's better than ten. Right?"
Tara did not hesitate and practically flew to Willow's side. "With your permission," she said quietly.
Faith's expression betrayed her internal debate. Finally, she sighed and stepped forward. She smiled at Spike coquettishly and stroked the whip as she walked past him. "You never bring that along to the bedroom," she teased him.
Anyanka rolled her eyes, not wanting to stand aside. "Hell, you girls do have a help-the-weak syndrome!"
Drusilla's face went extra white with rage as more and more girls volunteered to take Buffy's punishment for her.
Spike gave them a warm smile. "Your loyalty makes me proud to have you for my wives. I resign my right this time. Let me make it more clear, just this once. The next time, I'm not going to show that much mercy." The girls exchanged triumphant and relieved glances. "Buffy has to be special to win your friendship in so little time. Go back to the serail, all of you. This show is over." Buffy felt the guards approach and uncuff her. She sank to the ground and rubbed her aching wrists. After a moment, she managed to stand.
Kendra and the others were about to leave.
"Kendra, I want to thank you," Buffy began.
Kendra shook her head. "Don't talk to me," she said coldly and left.
*
"You guys want WHAT?" Buffy's eyes widened in shock.
"Apologize," Kendra said simply. "Tell him you're sorry, and we're sisters again."
"No way," Buffy refused, "He's the bad guy, he's keeping me prisoner! Don't you see how sick and wrong this is? I'm not gonna apologize!"
"We gave you all our hospitality, we helped you adjust, and you betrayed us," Kendra said simply. "You deserved the punishment."
Buffy glared at her. "Then, why did you save me?"
"What I did, I did for Spike, not for you," Kendra replied. "He did not want to do this. But a sheik cannot refuse to punish a crime without losing authority, so I interfered."
"Oh, yeah, he's all noble because he only beats a defenseless woman when she's a danger to his ego," Buffy snorted with bitter irony.
"Buffy," Willow said in a more friendly tone, "we are not asking you to feel anything for Spike. All we want is peace in the house. It won't kill you to apologize to him, even if you don't mean it. We have to stand together as one. Given what we've done for you, this is only a little thing to ask, don't you think?"
*
Buffy closed the door behind her very carefully and tried not to walk too loudly. Spike was seated on the divan, next to Khari, who seemed to have fallen asleep while discussing his homework. Spike was looking around for a blanket. "I'll come back later," Buffy whispered, acknowledging herself to the Sheik.
Spike shook his head and gestured at his office. "Wait in my study. I'll only be a minute."
Buffy wished he had sent her away. None of the other women could have blamed her. But now they would have a conversation she most dreaded. Waiting in his study, while he was making his son comfortable on the divan in the room next door, made things worse.
To distract herself from being nervous, Buffy roamed her gaze around curiously. She could see a mahogany desk with precious golden ornaments, oil lamps, shelves covered with souvenirs he had apparently received as gifts from foreign visitors, and, to her surprise, a faded Union Jack on the wall.
A crumpled sheet of paper in the waste paper basket next to his desk caught her eye, because it was sheathed in, not Arabic, but Latin letters. She carefully unfolded it. Buffy raised an eyebrow. Poetry? Curiosity got the better of her, and she read it, once again, disregarding all the danger it concealed.
Behind a veil of golden sunshine
She hides her frozen gaze.
She covers my roses with snow
And breathes an icy wind in my face.
She is remote like the old gods above
I reach for her, but she shuns my caress,
I would die for her love,
And she could not care less.
Poetry. She had not expected him to write verses. And truth to be told, deep inside of her, putting all her denial aside, she longed for those words to be about her. Those carefully, almost delicate chosen terms did not match the image he had so carefully tried to maintain in front of everyone. For all she knew, he pretended to be indifferent to her resistance against him and his way of life, but apparently this was just another charade. It made sense. She had been at the ready to sleep with him twice, but he refused her—only not to demean her, as she had once assumed—but he had done it because he did not want her obedience, he wanted her desire, he wanted her to want him. And that was kind of sweet, almost geeky sweet, if her presumptions were right, because the other possibility seemed terrifying. For that meant he was only doing this psychological war, just so he could prove he was man enough, that he could take to bed any woman that crossed his path and do it with her utmost consent. She quickly glanced at the door. Spike was just standing there, looking at the sleeping child, smiling. No, not going there, Buffy chided herself. Bad case of Stockholm syndrome. He was right in destroying the poem; it was cheesy, stereotyped and not even good verse. She heard Spike move in the adjoining room. With a careful look around to make sure he was still busy, she folded the sheet and hid it inside her golden bra.
A moment later, he had put Khari to bed and joined her in the study.
Buffy pointed at the Union Jack. "What's that?"
He smiled with a far-away look on his face. "It was my mother's. The colours are fading, but I won't throw it away." He didn’t elaborate, just paused, and studied her face. "What do you want?" he finally asked in a quiet voice.
Buffy held his gaze. "I owe you an apology."
Spike smoothed his hair back with a hand and leaned back against the desk. "The girls sent you."
"No!" Buffy hurried to say, but cast her eyes down. "Maybe. Just a little."
He nodded slowly. "Tell them I appreciate it. You may leave, Buffy. I have no need for an apology you don't mean."
Buffy took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry I brought Khari into this, and I didn't mean to injure your bodyguard."
Buffy was suddenly very aware of the sheet of paper hidden between her skin and the fabric of her dress. She was sweating. Why had she even taken the poem? It did not mean a thing, especially no to her, she reminded herself. She knew she was not an ice queen, and it was Spike's entire fault she hadn’t succumbed to him like all those other women.
Spike glanced at her intently, for a moment she feared he had spotted the folded paper, her dress, if she could call it that, didn’t cover all that much, that was for sure. However, there was no suspicion in his gaze. He was just looking at her. "But you're not sorry you made a run for it."
It wasn’t a question. And she had no clue how to reply to that statement. She was not sorry for seizing the first chance she got to get out. She remembered the way he had looked at her only the night before she had tried to flee that silken cage, somewhere between devoted adoration and burning desire. There was nothing left of that look in his eyes now. He looked exhausted, and, above all, defeated. This was what Buffy did feel sorry about. But she would rather have her tongue cut out before saying so.
"Go back to the others, Buffy. I've heard enough excuses to last me a lifetime." He walked toward the door of his study to the adjoining bedroom. "I'm tired. Just leave."
For the first time, he did what she had hoped for, from the moment of her arrival: he was sending her away. He had given up. She remembered the tenderness in his eyes when he was talking to his son and the hurt of her betrayal. Buffy remembered the lines he had not meant for anyone to see and were, right now, burning a metaphoric hole in her breast, and, suddenly, she had no desire to go away. For a moment, she imagined a scenery in which she had arrived at the hotel and met him, not as a sheik, but as a normal man at the swimming pool, the sunshine casting highlights in his hair, a sharp contrast against his tanned skin, then, Spike and her dancing the nights away at the local clubs and spending their days at the beach, laughing together. She would return earlier from her manicure, catching him at the bar where he was waiting for her and scribbling some verses because he thought he was alone. He would refuse to show them to her, she would snatch them from him, and he would hurriedly say that they were no good, but of course they were beautiful, and they were about her. Until one night she would not go back to her hotel room. He would try to unlock the door to his room, but after many unsuccessful attempts to calm his unrelenting trembling hands, and maybe drop the keys once or twice for full effect, she would unlock the door for him, they would close the door behind them, leaving them in the dark, with nothing but soft music and moonlight. And he would look at her in that special way she was sorely missing now. His empty gaze made her feel incredibly lonely and bereft.
Buffy shook her head. "I don't think you heard me correctly. I want to apologize. To make up with you." She gave him a shy smile. Then she kissed him.
For a long moment, Spike kissed her back. Her hair had the faint scent of oranges [So we can have a little chat before you rape me?], her lips were soft against his skin [Let's get this done, so you can lock me up again and call another slave] while she pressed against him, shivering slightly, her little breaths fast and shallow [I'm your property, am I not? - I'm as good as dead already]. What was wrong with him? He was the sheik, he shouldn’t give a damn about why she was here, and she did not have to like him as long as she complied with his wishes. All he wanted was to lay her down right there on the desk and let his body speak for his heart, but he knew in an instant he could not. Because he did gave a damn. He pushed her at arms length, still holding her forearms. "God, Buffy, please, just go."
"Why?" she asked in a small voice, her lips still puckering out.
He jumped to his feet. "You feel compelled to be here, maybe because of the other girls, maybe to ease your conscience, I don't know, and I don't want to know! You've made it perfectly clear that you don't really want to be with me, so don't start anything you don’t want to finish! That's it, you win." He said, finally releasing her and turning away from her. "I can't let you go home, but rest assured, I won't call for you again either. You are freed from your wifely duties."
Buffy stared at him disbelievingly. "You can't... I mean, what will the others think, won't it do harm to your authority?"
He chuckled, but his voice was full of bitterness and frustration. "Don't flatter yourself. All they will think is that you're just not any good at it. Would you mind getting out now?"
Without another word, Buffy ran out, veiling her face erratically in order to hide her pouring tears, while at the same time, unsuccessfully trying to push away all of the images that came tumbling down like a freight train from her past, that effectively reopened a long-time, deep, wrongfully thought as recovered, wound.
TBC...
Feedback, pretty please!

Chapter 5
Sheik Khari Ahani's little secret
A large part of Buffy's mind was relieved that she would never have to put up with Spike's advances and mind games any more. The first few days after the unpleasant conversation [no one had ever talked to her that way and gladly no one knew what had really transpired between them] passed, but the damage in her heart lingered. However, the fact that she did not have any marital duties to worry about left her with a most frightening question: what am I going to do around here now?
From walking through the gardens with Willow and Tara, to learning the art of middle eastern dance from Kendra, or spending hours soaking in a hot tub and tending to her beauty were all very well, but the fact remained that she was stuck in the palace with nowhere to turn to and no other company than that of a bunch of brainwashed girls who all seemed to think Spike was God's gift to women. She liked the other girls - well, at least most of them anyway-, but, ironically, those who came closest to her idea of a liberated woman were Darla and Drusilla.
After a while though, Buffy began to notice, out of living without the distracting fear of yet another night of fending off the sheik, that strange things were taking place at the palace.
It all started with a belly dancing lesson with Kendra. Since Buffy had been getting the basics quite fast, Kendra was moving her on to a more advanced exercise.
"No, no," Kendra explained patiently. "The moon circle is something you do just with your hips, your butt stays where it is!"
Buffy cast her a hurt puppy look. "I'm not moving my---"
"Oh yes, you are," Kendra insisted and tied a silk scarf around Buffy's body. "Now you try it."
Buffy tried to imitate the movement Kendra had shown her, and to her dismay she found the scarf did not stay in place. "Alright, maybe a little," Buffy admitted, looking tired.
Kendra smiled compassionately. "Do you wish to stop for today?"
Buffy nodded gratefully. "Tell ya what, I'm going to have a quick shower and then we can have some dinner?"
Kendra nodded. "That would be agreeable."
Buffy untied the scarf and walked towards the bathroom. She opened the door and --- saw Faith, getting ready for her meeting with Spike.
"Hey!" Faith snapped, trying to cover herself with a towel.
"Sorry, I didn't know you were in h..." Buffy began to apologize and made to withdraw immediately, then broke off with a frown. Faith was by no means naked.
Faith was wearing a sports bra and gymnastics pants underneath the richly decorated canary dress she was putting on. Buffy gave her a questioning look. "What?, no expensive silk? Just plain old cotton? So Spike's into role-playing, huh? What are you playing, naughty cheerleader and lusting coach?"
To Buffy's surprise, Faith did not grin self-assuredly, but looked shocked, as if she had been caught doing something illegal. "None of your damn business, B" she snapped, pulling the dress around her, and, oddly enough, blushing.
"Sorry," Buffy began, confused. "I was just wondering..."
"Get out!" Faith yelled, making an angry move towards Buffy and the door, which made Buffy snap out of it, and left, closing the door quickly behind her. This did not make any sense. Faith enjoyed playing the vixen and bragged about their dexterous sexual encounters. Why would she be embarrassed by something as simple as her outfit, which, actually, was the less revealing she got to see her wear so far?
Buffy wondered why Faith would go to see her lover in sports clothes. Determined to find out what Faith's behaviour was all about, Buffy waited patiently for her to come back from the supposedly sexcapades.
When Faith returned around midday and cast her clothes away into the laundry, Buffy sneaked in there furtively and examined her things. The sports clothes were soaked in sweat. Buffy arched an eyebrow. This looked more like a workout routine than a night of passion. Before she could further ponder onto this, Faith threw the door open and slammed Buffy into the wall, eyes flaming. "What are you doing with my laundry? Are you spying on me?"
"No," Buffy hurried to say.
Faith tightened her grip. "I thought I'd made myself clear when I said my sex life was none of your business!"
With more strength than Faith would have given the tiny blonde credit for, Buffy pushed her away. "Come on, Faith, you've been flaunting your sex life into my face since the moment we met!" She tilted her head. "I'm not an expert, but don't you usually take off your clothes during sex? Yours are soaked, like you'd run the New York marathon!"
Faith looked sheepish.
Buffy's eyes widened as the whole truth dawned on her. "Oh. My. God!! You're not having sex with Spike!. You're his personal trainer!."
"No," Faith protested. "Just sometimes," she added in a low voice, sounding so vulnerable Buffy almost felt sorry for her. "He needs a good trainer," Faith explained, "A sheik is often challenged, there are many enemies just waiting for him to show weakness. If it comes down to a fight, he has to be prepared, and I'm the only one he trusts with this matter."
Suddenly, Buffy saw her with different eyes. "Don't worry," she assured Faith, "Your secret's safe with me."
Buffy recovered very slowly from the surprising revelation. She was determined to get to the bottom of this, so with nothing better to do, she began a sort of a crusade and started paying closer attention to the other women's doings.
At first glance, Anya appeared to be nothing more than a brainless sex toy, but now Buffy took the time to take a closer look. For instance, she noticed that Spike always called her to him the night before an important business meeting. On those nights, she noticed spots of ink on Anya's fingers when she returned to the harem. Buffy's eyes widened. He didn't call Anya exclusively for sex - he also asked her for business advice.
When the quiet girl Fred returned to the harem, exhausted and with tangled hair, Buffy overheard a conversation between the eunuchs (she had finally got a hang of the language) that Spike was planning to add a new palace building, and there had been some problems with the statics that his architects could not manage to solve.
And when Kendra, on one of their walks through the gardens, asked her to go back and fetch her a hairbrush from the bedroom, Buffy discovered several pages covered in Spike's writing, hidden under Kendra's sheets - French homework Kendra had given him.
Buffy realized that she had indeed underestimated the other women. There was a lot going on in that bedroom, other than the obvious.
After watching the events for a while, Buffy made a decision. She would confront Spike with what she knew. He was permanently worrying about his macho reputation, so he could not afford rumors of being less than a manly man. And even though it would technically be blackmail, and clearly it was below her, perhaps there was a chance, even if it was a slight one, that he would agree to let her make her phone call.
So, with that thought in mind Buffy headed to his room, gathering in the way (it was such a long one) all the courage she could muster. But even before she entered, Buffy heard agitated voices from his quarters. She frowned. Just then, a very short, balding, beady-eyed man, face white with anger, rushed past her, cursing under his breath in English.
Cautiously, Buffy approached the door and peeked into the room.
"You can't keep firing your English teachers!" Spike said, more loudly than necessary, "Who's supposed to give you a continuous and I might add, quite expensive, education if you can't follow simple instructions?"
Khari lifted his chin defiantly. "I'm Khari Ahani, I'm the sheik's son. I don't follow other people's instructions!" He looked so much like a smaller copy of his father, that Buffy had to stifle a giggle.
Spike shook his head in impatience. "In your classroom, you are not my son, you are a student. That means you're there to learn. If you don't learn, you'll never understand your subjects' needs, and you'll never get to grow up. You'll just get older." He whispered that last line as he knelt down to be face to face with his son, while grabbing his head with both hands and pressing their foreheads together. "You have to do what your teachers say, son. Not for their sake, but for yours."
"Mr Snyder is stupid," Khari said helplessly, "He's so boring and no fun."
Spike stroked his son's hair and failed helplessly at not smiling. "I know," he sighed, "But good teachers are hard to find."
Father and son exchanged gazes of mutual understanding.
Buffy just stood there and looked at them. Her heart went out to the little boy.
Khari's gaze traveled to the door. "I want Buffy," he said with a determination proper of a sheik.
Spike turned his head and saw her standing there.
"I'm sorry," Buffy said, "I didn't mean to intrude."
"That's ok," Spike replied thoughtfully.
"Hi, Buffy," Khari said.
"Hey," she said softly, "How are you today?"
Then Khari ran to her, and Buffy immediately knelt down to reduce the difference in height, which in all honesty wasn't that big after all, and Khari hugged her tightly.
Buffy held the child for a moment, and then kept him at an arm's length to look at him, smiling. "You've grown again, at least an inch since yesterday, haven't you? You'll be taller than me in no time!"
Khari blushed adorably. "That's just the new shoes."
Spike was watching them for a moment. "Buffy."
Buffy frowned. "Yes?"
"Can I have a word with you?"
Buffy nodded at Khari. "Why don't you get Mr Gordo and play with him a bit?"
Spike tilted his head, in that oh-so-adorable kinda way. "Mr Gordo?"
"His pig toy," Buffy said with just a hint of reproach in her voice. Mr Gordo was Khari's favourite toy. How could his father know nothing of it?
Khari nodded and hurried off to get the toy.
Spike watched him with guilt stricken all over his face. "I don't have nearly enough time to be as close to him as I would like."
Buffy rose and straightened her crumpled dress. "No. You don't make enough time for him. There's a difference."
Spike nodded slowly. "I know." He watched where his son had disappeared for a moment. "I'm not always the father he deserves," he said in a low voice, barely audible. "That's what I'm sorry about. That he doesn't even know how much..." He shook his head. "Sorry 'bout the rant, I got carried away."
Buffy's heart was pounding in her chest. She meant to tell him that she knew about his dependence on his wives, that she was going to tell everyone about it if he did not let her make her phone call, that if she got her way she was going to run from him as fast and as far as she could. But the words just stuck in her throat. Spike looked desolate behind the mask he so carefully maintained for everyone. There were things in his life he regretted, past mistakes he could not undo. And she realized that she had been deceived by appearances, once again. She thought she had seen right through him from the first moment. But she realized then that she actually knew very little about Spike, the real Spike.
Spike looked at her thoughtfully. "I think Khari's suggestion may not be that far off, after all. I mean, the two of you are getting on so well, and English is your native language."
Buffy shook her head and laughed, partly to break the tension. "I'm hardly a teacher, Spike."
Spike shrugged. "For God's sake, Buffy, Khari's six years old, you won't be teaching him Shakespeare! Perhaps, some children's books, fairy tales, basic spelling, I don't expect any miracles. But what I said is true, I'm running out of ideas here, when it comes to finding an English teacher he's willing to accept."
"How about Willow?" Buffy suggested.
"Willow's a very bright woman," Spike admitted, "But she's also a gentle person. Khari is a lot like me, and..."
"So I've noticed," Buffy remarked.
"... and I think he needs someone whose authority he accepts. Someone who doesn't push him, but at the same time, doesn't let him cross too many lines either." He looked at her questioningly. "Will you teach him? Please."
Buffy was watching Khari as he ran towards them, clutching Mr Gordo. She was grateful for the distraction. "Hello, Mr Gordo," she greeted the pig toy. "How have you been?"
"He's been fine," Khari explained, "But that's because he doesn't have to listen to Mr Snyder all day!"
Buffy giggled at that, a high, silvery laughter, her green eyes sparkling as she caressed the little boy's cheek. The sight left Spike staring at her, mesmerized, wishing it was him being caressed in Khari's place. Buffy felt his gaze on her and turned her head. Their eyes met.
Khari walked up to his father. "Can Buffy teach me?"
Buffy looked at the child helplessly. If she made such a commitment now and ran away soon after, it would break the little boy's heart. She could not take such responsibility.
"I want Buffy," Khari repeated more urgently and just a hint of desperation.
"Yeah, me too," Spike said hoarsely, his voice trailing off.
For a moment, he was caught up entirely in that moment.
"Dad," Khari said indignantly, the cause for his father's distraction lost on him.
Spike snapped out of it immediately. "Buffy, will you be Khari's English teacher? If you say no," he added with a mischievous smirk, "I'll have to resort to asking his mother."
For a moment, Buffy pictured little Khari sitting in a dark study with Drusilla's strict eyes watching his every move and giving him homework till his fingers bled. She only hesitated for a second. "Count me in," she said.
Khari broke into triumphant laughter and hugged Buffy's knees with such a force he almost toppled her over.
Spike beamed at her with a triumphant smile. "Good! Now, that's settled." He took a key from the drawer of his desk and handed it to Buffy. "You're welcome to use my private library. Two doors down. Any time you like."
Buffy took the key from his hand. Their fingers touched. Buffy felt like she had touched a live wire. "Thanks," she said in a small voice.
"I'll show you," Khari offered and clutched her hand, clearly deciding that his father had had enough Buffy time for today.
Spike nodded encouragingly. "You can go, Buffy. Ah, before I forget: what was it you came to see me for?"
Buffy shrugged. "It wasn't important."
Khari ran off to the library before her.
"Thanks," Spike said. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know," Buffy replied.
"It is appreciated." He smiled, but his gaze was melancholic. "You're a lucky girl. You get to spend a lot of time with Khari," he said quietly.
"You love him," Buffy replied without thinking. "He's your world. And he knows it."
*
Buffy returned to the harem with a pile of children's books to go through for texts she would give to Khari. But her mind was elsewhere. All the time she was getting glimpses of the person behind the sheik, and those glimpses made it harder and harder for her to hate him. Why couldn't they have met somewhere else? Why did she have to be a hostage, and he a sheik? Who knew what might have been if...
Faith grinned when she saw her. "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"
Buffy looked at her suspiciously. "Huh?"
"Shakespeare, B!" Faith said, "That was just my way of saying: congrats to being the new English teacher!"
"Oh, thanks," Buffy replied, relieved that Faith did not mean to imply anything else.
*
Anya closed the books. "That's it. This way, you'll get the most money out of this deal."
"Thank you, Anya," Spike said. "I couldn't have figured it out without you."
"Oh yes, you could," Anya disagreed. "But it would have taken you ages," she added with a grin.
"Probably," Spike admitted. He patted her shoulder. "Great job." He glanced at the clock. It was very late. "Where does the time go?" He kissed her forehead. "Good night, Anya. Thanks so much for your help."
Anya flung her arms around his neck and kissed his lips. "You're very, very welcome," she whispered, then deepened the kiss, hinting that the night wasn't over for them just yet.
Spike returned the kiss for a moment, then freed himself from her embrace. "I'm sorry," he said lamely, "It's been a long day."
Anya pouted. "You keep saying that," she reproached him. "No pressure or anything, but I can't wait any longer. I haven't gotten any sex since she came here, and I doubt anyone else has!" She crossed her arms in front of her chest, pouting like a small child. "You don't see us any more. All you see is her."
Spike arched an eyebrow. "It's that obvious?"
"Not for everyone," Anya said. "Not yet. They still think it's the challenge of a new conquest. But it's different this time. Isn't it?"
She wanted Spike to contradict her.
But he remained silent, eyes casting elsewhere.
"Then why are you not giving her what she wants? She thinks you're cruel, and cold, and an as..." Anya gestured helplessly. "...Well, not a nice person, anyway."
Spike took a deep breath. "All she wants is to get away from me."
"Well, can you blame her? She was kidnapped from a plane on her way to the first family vacation in years, dragged through the desert on a camel, fending off leering terrorists, sold into slavery, branded, bullied by Dru, dressed like a whore and led straight to your bedroom, all in one single day - can't think of a reason why she would want to run away, especially from you," Anya said bluntly and adding, quite oddly, some sarcasm to the mix.
"I didn't know! I swear!" Spike said in shock. "I had no idea..."
"Did you even bother to ask?" Anya asked.
TBC...

Chapter 6
Independence Day

Spike sat on a pillow on the floor, tapping his fingers on the expensive wood of the mahogany coffee table impatiently. His business partner was sitting opposite of him, having a strong mocca and smoking heavily. He was considerably older than Spike, his face haggard and worn, with piercing eyes and unnaturally red lips. His teeth were pearly white, like a shark's, which Spike felt strongly reminded of, every time that the man smiled. His political career had started out as a military governor, but he had taken over the rule of several neighbouring kingdoms and proclaimed himself a sultan, carefully establishing his reputation as a fearsome and fearless conqueror. He had had a real name a long time ago, but it had been forgotten, almost as if he was some kind of fallen god, even before Spike was born. Instead, people called him khawandi, "Lord", "Master", yet not reverently, but from fear. Spike had no intention of doing business with him, but he could not outright refuse the khawandi's request to meet him.
The longer they talked, however, the more resolved Spike was not to falter in the face of this man.
"My offer is a good one, Sheik Khari Ahani," the khawandi told him. "You should think about it."
"I am honoured and flattered by your offer," Spike said politely, "But my country isn't big, nor rich. I don't think the few oilfields we have are of any significance to you."
The khawandi chuckled, drawing in more smoke. "Leave it to me what is significant."
Spike indicated a bow of his head. "Of course. If you will permit me to decide what is important to me and who I'm doing business with. I am sorry, if you had told me right away you came the long way just to ask me this question, I would have asked you to stay at home. I'm not selling you any oil fields. They are the only sustenance for a lot of people in this kingdom."
The khawandi sighed and fixed Spike with a burning gaze. "Stubborn like your father."
Spike held his gaze. "I take that as a compliment."
His rival's voice had a sneering tone to it. "A pity you are overlooking a detail."
Spike remained calm on the outside, but was burning with rage from within. "And what would that be?"
The khawandi's expression was unreadable, not openly hostile. In a matter-of-fact tone, he replied: "Your father is dead."
Spike rose from the pillow. "Yeah. But I'm not. Those oilfields belong to my people. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't sell them to you."
The khawandi bowed mockingly. "As you wish, Sheik. Don't say I didn't make a most profitable offer later." He walked toward the window and gazed down at the gardens.
Spike desperately wanted him out of his palace and out of his life, but he could not throw him out without violating the laws of hospitality.
Suddenly, the khawandi's eyes focused on something down below. " Gameel," he exclaimed, pretty. Spike followed his gaze and froze. Down in the gardens, Buffy was sitting next to the fountain, going through some texts for Khari's lessons.
"Who is she?" the khawandi asked curiously, devouring Buffy with her eyes.
"My son's English teacher," Spike said, trying to sound cold and disinterested. If this man found out Spike had feelings for her, he would do everything in his power to take her away from him.
"Moron," he said, "You didn't make her one of your wives, you're such a fool."
Spike straightened his shoulders. "As a matter of fact, I did. She's my wife."
The khawandi turned to Spike with a suddenly benevolent smile. "Tell you what. Let's forget about the oilfields. We wouldn't want such vain materialism come between our people, now would we? It's not worth a conflict among brothers, is it?"
Spike eyed him suspiciously. He did not like the sound of it, he didn’t like it at all. Conflict and brothers in the khawandi's vocabulary had too often spelt W- A -R.
He gestured down at Buffy, asking Spike: "Kam sacri l-layla?"
Spike thought he had misheard him, or maybe it was best to try to remain oblivious, since the truth would be too hard and painful to face. "Lâ 'afham," he said, I don't understand.
"Oh yes, you've heard me. What's the price for one night?"
Spike shook his head, trying not to think about the repercussions his next words could have in the future of his people and kingdom. "Get out of my house," he told him, his voice quiet, yet deadly cold.
"Not so fast, dear sheik. I am sure we can reach an agreement," the Master said. His gaze traveled into the distance. "I even reached an agreement with your father."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Spike snapped.
"About your mother, of course." The Master looked at him, coldly, emotionless. "Don't tell me you haven’t figured it out by now. I could have taken your pathetic resources with my army cadets. How do you think your old man managed to keep his oilfields?"
Spike was sure these were nothing but lies, but it stung nonetheless. "Get out," he spat forcefully.
"You're throwing me out, breaking the laws of hospitality?" the khawandi asked. "Think about it. She's just a girl. Her lips will still taste sweet and her skin will still smell of wild roses and honey when I send her back to you."
Spike headed for the door, opened it demonstratively. "Maca salâma," he said, threat in his every word, Go without fear, firmly restraining himself from uttering some of his more crude thoughts, for the sake of his people and Buffy.
The Master bowed. "Ilâ l-liqâ' - until next time, Sheik Khari Ahani. I gave you a chance once - you won't get a second one."
Spike slammed the door closed behind him. He was shaking, now. He felt humiliated and betrayed, but he had stood his ground. At least for the moment. He felt a wild longing to see Buffy, to tell her all about the danger she had been in, how he had done everything to keep her safe. But he could not say a word, he would not. He had to look cheerful as if nothing had happened. He tore the door open and called a guard, instructing him to summon the leaders of his body guard, the Janissaries. He needed backup for his army.
Buffy looked up at Spike's window. There was no one to be seen. But she felt chills running all through her body as if death had been calling for her.
She shuddered.
"Beautiful morning, isn't it, my lady?"
Buffy turned around. Instinctively, she shied back from the old man with his bloodshot eyes. She pulled her veil over her face a little more tightly and nodded.
"What's your name, child?"
"B... " She hesitated, suddenly seeing a point in the old belief that giving someone your name gave him power over you. The freedom fighters had frightened her beyond imagination, but his man made her feel cold inside. "Buffy," she whispered.
He chuckled. "What a beautiful name for such a noble creature."
"Excuse me," she said and curtseyed politely, then made to bolt for the palace, but he grabbed her forearm and held her with an iron and punishing grip, all the while with a sardonic smile on his face.
"Khari failed to introduce us," he drawled, running a long yellow fingernail along the hem of her veil. "I am called khawandi. Master."
"By whom?" Buffy replied without thinking, regretting her mistake the same moment.
With a sudden movement, the khawandi jerked away her veil and touched the white skin of Buffy's neck. Meanwhile Buffy remained frozen in place, with widened eyes. "Soon," he promised in a whisper.
Then he was gone.
Buffy hastily put her veil in place and fled to her lesson with Khari, suddenly feeling very alone, vulnerable and cold.
*
Buffy's day had passed swiftly as she spent more and more time with Khari. He was a bright, but incredibly stubborn boy, yet she enjoyed teaching him nonetheless. When he frowned at her, tilting his head in disbelief about one fact or another, watching her with his clear, innocent blue eyes, he reminded her so much of Spike that sometimes she had to look away in order to keep focused. Today was one of those days.
"... and the eagle is the American national bird," Buffy explained. "But Benjamin Franklin..." She blinked. "We've talked about him, haven't we?"
Khari nodded. "Yes, we have."
Buffy beamed. "Ok, Ben Franklin didn't want the eagle to be the national bird. He actually saw the eagle as a filthy scavenger and proposed that a different, nobler bird should be used to symbolize the country. Have a guess, which bird did Ben like?"
Khari thought about it for a minute, his face serious and concentrated. "Maybe... the peacock!"
"That would have been pretty," Buffy agreed, "But, no, I'm afraid it wasn't the peacock! Guess again?!"
Khari looked a little disappointed, but he thought again. "How 'bout... the penguin! It's got black and white feathers, like wearing a smoking, that is a bit noble, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Buffy admitted, "But the penguin isn't a bird that can be found in North America, so old Ben wouldn't have chosen that one. So what other national bird would he have liked?"
Khari began to look frustrated. "Who cares? He didn't get what he wanted! Why am I supposed to learn what the Americans didn't do?"
"The turkey," Spike said quietly.
Khari and Buffy turned around, startled by his sudden appearance.
"Daddy!" Khari rushed to the door and hugged Spike's legs. Spike smiled at him and lifted him up in his arms carrying him to the desk Khari and Buffy had been working at, sitting down with Khari on his lap.
"Hi, Buffy," he said.
"Hey," Buffy replied. She frowned as she looked at him. Something wasn't right. "You okay?" she asked.
Spike nodded. "Tough business negotiations. I'm just a little tired." Smiling to himself he felt some weight lifting off from his troubled heart, there was still a glimmer of hope for them since Buffy had been concerned enough to ask.
"It was not the turkey," Khari said reproachfully.
Buffy shrugged. "Sorry, I'm afraid it was."
Khari's face fell. "Really?"
Buffy nodded, handing him a book. "Here. There is a letter from Ben to his daughter in which he tells her that he wanted the wild turkey to be the national bird." She began to read. Khari was listening attentively. "For my own part I wish the Bald Eagle had not been chosen the Representative of our Country."
Spike was watching her thoughtfully. While she was reading, she changed, her voice, the way she held herself. She sounded like an American president.
"He is a Bird of bad moral Character."
That makes two of us, Spike thought uneasily.
"He does not get his Living honestly. You may have seen him perched on some dead Tree near the River, where, too lazy to fish for himself, he watches the Labour of the Fishing Hawk; and when that diligent Bird has at length taken a Fish, and is bearing it to his Nest for the Support of his Mate and young Ones, the Bald Eagle pursues him and takes it from him."
She probably has a hard-working mother who raised her and made her the awesome girl she is, a mother that had been happy to take her kids on a holiday like this one, and then Buffy got taken away from her. Just like that. By me...
"For the Truth the Turkey is in Comparison a much more respectable Bird, and withal a true original Native of America," Buffy finished reading.
"Quite right," Spike murmured.
Buffy blinked. "Huh?"
Spike felt like he had given away some of his thoughts. He shook his head to get the image out of his mind. "Sorry. I just felt he had a point," he said sheepishly.
Buffy shrugged, nonchantly dismissing his answer, trying to seem unmoved by how his presence and boyish charm were affecting her. "I'm not judging or anything, but personally I think it was a wise choice to make the Eagle national bird and eat the turkey for Thanksgiving than vice versa."
Khari chuckled at that. "That was nice! Can we read another story, Buffy?"
Buffy shook her head. "Sorry, I don't want to keep your maths teacher waiting. We can have another story tomorrow, ok? Now you gotta run."
Khari nodded responsibly and got his bag. "See you, Dad. Bye, Buffy."
Spike watched him go.
Buffy gathered the books together silently, avoiding looking at Spike.
"So you're teaching Khari about America," Spike said casually, trying to start a conversation.
"I was going to return to our normal schedule tomorrow," Buffy hurried to say, "But I was thinking, since it's the fourth of July today..." Her tone was apologetic.
"Must be hard for you not to be at home now," Spike said.
Buffy did not reply. Actually, it was hard not to be at home every day, so she tried not to think about it.
Spike drew in a breath. "I mean... on your national holiday."
Buffy bit her lip. "The girls who are from the US are having a little dinner or somethin'," she said, trying not to think of Dawn and her mother.
"Oh," Spike replied with more than just a hint of disappointment to his words. "So you have plans for tonight."
"No," Buffy said quickly, then added: "I mean... yeah, why?"
Spike felt incredibly stupid. They both just stood there, staring at each other. "I was gonna ask you if you'd have dinner with me --- to talk about Khari's education. But if you already..."
Buffy smiled. "Tell ya what. I'm gonna show at the girls' dinner, and then I'll see you in your study."
"Not the study. Outside. In the park. I've been indoors a lot lately, we could take a walk." And I can tell you everything; for everything I've been longing to say will be best told in the dark, just in case I was going to blush like a schoolboy.
Buffy was surprised, but she agreed.
"Good," Spike said, letting out a breath of relief. "I'll see you later, then." He even held the door for her as she left for the serail.
Buffy froze in the movement. "Spike?"
He looked at her expectantly.
"Who was that guy who visited you earlier today?"
Spike stared at her. "What?"
"Old guy, waaay too many drinks, in desperate need for a manicure and some serious plastic surgery? Ka... kadaver or somethin'?"
"The khawandi," Spike said darkly.
"A total creep," Buffy remarked.
Spike felt his heart pounding in his chest. "He didn't... harass you or anything?!"
Buffy shook her head. "No, we just talked. I was... curious, that's all."
Spike drew in a sharp breath. "Good."
"Do me a favor?" Buffy asked, suddenly in a very small voice. "Don't let him get near me again."
He closed his eyes briefly, gathering his bearings. Then with a straight and solemn face, he said, "You're safe with me." And if he told this to himself over and over again, he might even believe it. The truth was that she was by no means safe as long as she was anywhere near him.


*
Buffy had difficulty seeing in the dark when she went down to the gardens that evening after a brief cameo at the girls' independence party.
She spotted a red-orange glow in the distance and began to walk toward it. As she came closer, she recognized the embers of an open fire in the sheik's private garden. Normally, this part was secured by locked gates. The lock had been removed and Buffy could enter. Next to the secured fireplace among exotic plants and palms, there was a huge woolen blanket spread on the sand, several baskets, a curious-looking bucket covered with a tea-towel and a portable ice box.
Buffy gave Spike a quizzical look. "A picnic?"
Spike gestured at the blanket. "It's what you usually do to celebrate the Fourth of July, right? I hope Willow hasn't told me anything wrong?"
Buffy grinned. "Nope. Outdoor cooking and sand and ants on your food, that's Independence Day."
Curiously, Buffy took a peek into the baskets. She tilted her head. "Has anyone told you that the key ingredient to any Fourth of July cookout or picnic is simplicity?"
Spike looked crestfallen. "Something wasn’t right. I knew it!"
"No, no," Buffy hurried to say, "Everything is traditional, but you don't normally have all of it. I mean, those baskets are suitable for 12 people."
"I thought you might like a choice," Spike said innocently.
Buffy's grin widened as she began to unpack the baskets, now and then uttering an enthusiastic little cry or a hysterical giggle. Hamburgers, cheeseburgers, beef ribs, hot dogs, BBQ chicken, cole slaw and potato salad, baked beans, chips and dip, sliced tomatoes, for dessert, cherry, blueberry and apple pie along with three different flavours of ice cream. As Buffy made to lift the tea-towel from the bucket, Spike's eyes flashed briefly in anticipation.
Buffy had a look at the bucket's ingredients and frowned. "You've gotta be kidding me."
Spike didn't look as if he was kidding. "Actually... no. Another tradition to be cherished on the Fourth."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, maybe for Khari."
Spike tilted his head. "So I take it you surrender?"
Buffy smiled and shook her head slowly. "In your dreams."
He shrugged. "I'd rather be fighting you anyway." Without another word, he jumped up and withdrew behind one of the palms, casting off his traditional garments, under which he was wearing a black tee and dark jeans (sorry, ladies!), which allowed for better movement. "Between the blanket and the coconut palm it's the safe zone," he shouted.
Buffy noticed there was another bucket right behind the palm. She reached into her bucket of water balloons and thrust one at Spike, who was still in the safe zone. It hit him in the back, exploding in a gush of icy water. "Safe zones are for babies!" she yelled.
There was no holding back any more as the two of them engaged in a merciless water balloon fight.
Throwing water balloons at Buffy and evading hers almost made Spike forget that their quiet and joyful life at the palace was under a dark cloud. He knew the Master and realized that he would not be by any chance outwitted. He always took what he wanted, and at the moment, that was both the oilfields and Buffy. She was not safe with him, no matter how much he wished to believe so. It was a well-known fact what the Master did to his women. There was a high fluctuation among his harem, to say the least. He had the bad habit of killing those he grew tired of. Spike had no illusions. He had feared that his alliance with the Master was just merely a way to buy him some time when he agreed to marry one of his daughters, Darla. He had anticipated the Master would lay claim on his son-in-law's property once again, sooner or later. It had taken the old wolf less than two minutes to realize that Buffy was his weak spot, and he would use it to break him.
Buffy did not know what was going through Spike's mind, but she noticed his momentary distraction, not really pondering on the reason behind it, and used it to her advantage, hitting him in the face with a water balloon. It was obviously some abrupt wakeup call and Spike's expression was so funny she laughed out loud.
Spike watched her for a moment. "You think you're so clever, huh?" he asked, then launched another attack, causing Buffy to shriek and seek shelter among the plants.
He hid his dark thoughts well. But he had no illusions about the fact that, if Buffy had a choice, she would not be spending this day in a water fight and picnic with him. She had arranged herself with the situation, what human beings do best, adapt. That did not mean she even liked him. Given what she must have been through, her every smile at him was like a miracle... or just good acting, he realized with a sinking feeling. Spike tried to push the thought away, the thought of what he was going to do tonight, what he had to do, what he was about to do. He tried not to think of the satellite cellphone hidden in the folds of the garment he had so leisurely discarded.
*
"I haven't been in a water fight since elementary school," Buffy admitted breathlessly as she fell down on the blanket, wiping a stray and very wet strand of hair from her face. "That was so funny!"
"Glad you had fun even though you lost," Spike teased her.
"I didn't lose," Buffy protested, "Look at you, you're soaking wet!"
Spike looked down at himself. "I guess, yeah. We're lucky it's a mild night. Nights can get very cold in this climate." He pulled the tee over his head, discarding it somewhere in the sand.
Buffy could not help but look at his perfect abs, his pale skin like white marble in the moonlight, his wet hair tousled. She resisted the impulse to run her hand over his body. Her look was not lost on Spike. It made things much more complicated.
His eyes traveled down from her face to her dress, which was not nearly as wet as his clothing, but had suffered a few direct hits in just the right places. He forced himself to look away. "Shall we have dinner?"
Buffy turned her attention to the food. "Good idea." For a moment, she just stared at the picnic undecidedly. "What shall I have? Those hot dogs look delicious, don't you think?"
"Have what you like best, Buffy. The hot dogs are yours, I'm not having any pork."
"You're allergic or somethin'?"
Spike smiled. "No, I'm just not having any pork. But that doesn't mean you can't."
"Tell ya what. Those BBQ wings look tempting. Yeah, I think I'll have those." Buffy nodded and helped herself to the chicken. "What do we have to drink?"
Spike checked the ice box. "Soda pop and tonic water, lemonade, iced tea, and..." He produced an exquisite champagne flute and a bottle of cold champagne.
"I've never had champagne before," Buffy said and took the glass from him. He opened the bottle and filled the flute, then helped himself to a glass of iced tea.
"You're not having any champagne?" Buffy asked disbelievingly.
Spike shook his head. "Sorry, I can't."
Buffy touched his arm compassionately. "I had no idea... I mean, look at you and all you have achieved, who would suspect you take such desperate actions... I'm so sorry, Spike. How long have you been a dry alcoholic?"
Spike blinked. "What?"
"Well, you did say you can't have any champagne, so I assumed..."
He laughed. "Oh, Buffy. That's so cute. No, I've never been addicted to alcohol."
Buffy shrugged and patted, longer than necessary, his muscular shoulder. "They all say that. Don't be ashamed, that happens to so many people."
Spike took her hand and caressed it. "Buffy, you don't understand. I've never had any alcohol. You're right though, it does bad things to many people when drank in excess. That is one of the reasons why we're not allowed to drink any alcoholic beverages."
"Oh." Buffy felt incredibly stupid. "I never thought of that. I'm so sorry." She stared at the glass in her hand.
"Don't look so embarrassed," Spike encouraged her, "Your culture has different laws and customs, you have champagne to celebrate an occasion, and one glass won't make you an alcoholic. As long as you know when to stop, you needn't worry."
Buffy felt suddenly reminded of a certain beer party in her freshman year at college and blushed.
Spike lifted his glass with iced tea. "So... cheers to America."
Buffy still looked doubtful. "I've never had champagne before, and I really wanna try it, but if you don't---"
"Buffy, I was the one who brought it, remember? Try it, and then tell me what it's like."
Buffy nodded gratefully and sipped her champagne.
Spike regarded her silently for a moment. "So?"
"It's..." She tasted the champagne again. "It's hard to describe... it's a bit like a flower, I mean, you see the buds and think they're pretty and that's it, and then the whole flower blossoms, and..." She frowns. "I'm reading way too much for Khari's lessons. It's nice. Really nice."
"I can't really imagine the taste of it," Spike admitted, "Can you describe it? Is it salty, or sweet?"
"Sweet," Buffy decided, then thought the better of it. "And a little sour, with just a hint of bitter..."
Spike looked puzzled. "Uh-huh..."
Buffy gestured helplessly. "It's so unfair you can't drink it, because it tastes like..." An idle thought suddenly flicked through her head. Her eyes locked on his.
Spike held her gaze, his expression attentive, and a little amused.
Buffy ran a hand through her hair self-consciously, not sure if she felt bold enough to make her suggestion without stammering or blushing. "You said you're forbidden to drink champagne... but your laws say nothing about tasting it?"
Spike looked confused. "I'm not sure I can follow." Then his gaze fell on Buffy's lips, still glistening with the wetness of the champagne.
Buffy's breath quickened. Tentatively, her fingers found his arms, drawing herself closer to him, until her lips were an inch from his mouth.
His hands lightly framed her face as he leaned in, painfully slow to kiss her.
She clung to his naked shoulders and closed her eyes to experience the kiss fully, to explore her feelings. She held her breath as she felt his tongue meet hers, her whole world stopped turning, and she even forgot where she was. As much as the little nagging voice in her head insisted that he was her captor and she a traitor to practically beg him to kiss her, her yearning for the kiss became strong enough to beat to death the little voice in the back of her mind, leaving in her skin the instincts she had tried to deny ever since she had seen him, the part of her that had always known she was meant to save him, in every way a man can be saved by a woman, destined to look beyond the walls he had so carefully built around himself, dealt an ugly hand for a purpose, singled out, chosen. He kissed her with such burning desire and at the same time despair, like the despair of a drowning man; that Buffy suddenly realized that it took weeks to build that kind of hunger, if not months or years. She was almost certain he had never kissed anyone like that, pouring all his soul into it.
Spike abandoned thought and opened himself to her. He tried to forget about the Master's sadistic grin and his sneering tone when he asked him for Buffy's price. There was no price and no bargain here. She was all soft lips and wild longing as he felt her fingers against his shoulders. He could not breathe, but it did not matter. Nothing mattered but her in his arms. Spike knew all about desire, and he was fond of all his wives, but this was new to him in a scary sort of way. It took a long moment before he gently broke the kiss, the urgency to come up for air undeniable.
Buffy gave him a shy side glance.
That was when the fireworks started.
Buffy giggled nervously. "Oh God. That's so cliché..."
Spike nodded, chuckling. "Totally cheesy."
Buffy glanced up into the night, illumined by hundreds of colours, reaching every shade of the spectrum, from blood-red to violet in an indigo sky. It was the most perfect Independence Day she had ever had, but in the most imperfect of circumstances. America. Would she ever see it again? Her family? And even if she did, it would not be without a sad good-bye she was not sure now her heart would be able to take. She blinked away her tears and lay back on the blanket, her head against Spike's bare chest.
Spike's mouth was dry. "Buffy... we need to talk."
Buffy avoided his gaze. "Don't you want to see the fireworks?"
Spike no longer cared about the fireworks. "Keep watching. I'll do the talking."
Buffy nodded, her eyes still focused on the sky. Stars exploded, fires rained down to the earth like colourful comets. There was a long moment of silence. Spike shifted uncomfortably. He would have preferred to talk to her later, but he was not sure he could do it at all after THE kiss. It took him several minutes to gather his thoughts. She did not seem to mind. It was easier for him to speak of these things while gazing at the sky instead of her face.
Spike cleared his voice. "Buffy... I don't know how to say this. I had no idea about the circumstances that brought you here. Hell, I don't even know your surname. Anya told me the other day what you went through. I've been telling myself that we had just a bad start and that I was sparing you a life that was bound to be worse than the one expecting you here. For some of the girls in the harem that's true. But for others, it isn't. What I mean to say... I understand you hate me, you think I'm a monster, and in a way I've been. I wanted to thank you, Buffy. For making me see that the world doesn't revolve around me." He paused. "What I didn't expect was that my world would suddenly start to revolve around you. I know you probably don't wanna hear it, so I'm not saying it. I have no illusions about that kiss, I see you're lonely and you've adapted to the situation, I can't blame you." He paused again, getting to the most difficult part. "It took me long enough to figure out that I don't want you to turn to me because I'm the only man available. You need to be able to make your own choices. You don't belong in my world, Buffy, but I got a taste of yours tonight. There are dangers in my world you're not aware of, all having to do with the unbidden visitor I had to receive today. You are not safe here, no matter how much I'd like to pretend you are. And I don't want you to suffer any more than you already have." He drew in a sharp breath. "This improvised celebration is my parting gift for you. This is your Independence Day, Buffy. You're free to go. There is a satellite telephone in my garment, must be somewhere over there on the sand. Take it, call the embassy, or your mother, whoever you want. Tomorrow my helicopter will take you to Cairo, first thing in the morning." That was it. It was finished, over, done with. He had done it. He had given her back her freedom. And though he should feel better, relieved from such a heavy weight such as telling Buffy his plans and feelings, he couldn’t help but suffer as if he was mourning.
But why didn't she jump and get the phone?
"Buffy?" he asked tentatively. "For God's sake, say something!"
Instead of a word, Buffy let out a satisfied snore and shuddered against him in her sleep.
Spike stared at her. She had fallen asleep. Before or during his speech?
"Buffy?" he whispered into her ear.
She stirred. Her eyelids fluttered. Then she sat up straight suddenly, eyes wide. "Happy birthday, America!" she exclaimed, then remembered where she was and stared at Spike. "I wasn't asleep!"
He gave her a chiding look. "You didn't hear a word of what I was saying!"
She stretched her limbs. "Sorry." The fireworks had finished, and an awkward silence settled over the scene.
"Are we going to talk about the kiss?" Spike asked to start the conversation again, though he was not sure how to repeat what he had just said.
Buffy rose, smoothing her dress with her hands. "Thanks. For the evening. For the picnic, the water fight, the fireworks, everything. It was nice of you to do that."
Spike picked up his garments, feeling the cellphone against the soft fabric. "Buffy, there's still something I..."
Buffy ran a hand through his hair, which was still a bit wet from the water fight. Her lips brushed against his lightly. "That guy, the Master or whatever he calls himself... he scared the shit out of me... but I feel... I mean, I know there are one zillion reasons why I shouldn't... but I feel safe with you."
He stared at her in disbelief. "You do?"
"Yes," she confirmed, but the next sentence was a blow he hadn't expected, so it hit him much harder. "That's probably why I kissed you. Don't get me wrong. You've arranged the perfect scenario, you've been kind, saying the right things at the perfect time, I adore your son, I appreciate your efforts at being a good father, and, God, you're probably the best kisser on the planet. Not that I've tried all of them," she hurried to add. But her face was too serious to carry a joke. "If we had been on the beach of some American small town on the coast of California tonight, celebrating my people kicking your people's ass, I could have imagined a lot going on between you and me in the romance department." She took a deep breath. "But the way things are, I know that you're never ever gonna give me as much as one chance to tell my mother I'm alive, and I'm not even talking about wanting to see her again."
Spike's hand closed on the cellphone, hidden in the garment. "You don't know that," he said between clenched teeth.
"Maybe you would," Buffy admitted, "After I slept with you. Don't get me wrong, I know you might just be sort of a nice guy under all that sheik crap. I know you care about me, though that might be a premiere for you. But today is about liberty, Spike. The freedom to make my own choices, live my own life. If that was even possible here and if you really loved me, you wouldn't hold a sheik's garments in your hands now, but a satellite cellphone." She shook her head. "I'm not your wife, Spike, and I never will be."
He froze with an unreadable expression on his face, standing there, amidst scattered leftovers of food, baskets, and two half-empty glasses, his back hot from the fire burning behind him.
It was only after the fire had died down that he noticed she had left.
He sank down to his knees, his hands on his thighs, clenching his pants, shaking his head, again and again, panting heavily to avoid an outburst of anger and frustration.
TBC...

Chapter 7: The pink-eyed monster

Buffy took a deep breath as the double doors to the harem swung closed behind her.

Willow heard the noise and came rushing from one of the adjoining rooms. "Buffy," she said cheerfully, "How did it go?"

Buffy shrugged trying to hide her saddened face. "I don't know. Not so well, I guess."

"Oh," Willow said compassionately while tapping her shoulder, then added with a scared rabbit face: "Was there something wrong with the picnic?"

Buffy smiled weakly. "No, your advice was perfect. Spike told me the whole thing was your work. Thanks. You thought of everything...and I mean everything, you should have seen all the food Spike brought. It was actually a good evening..." Her expression darkened. "Safe for the end of it."

Willow raised her eyebrows in sudden alarm. "But... you're staying... right?!"

Buffy looked at her, expression puzzled. "Of course I'm staying."

Willow was thrilled. "I knew it!" she exclaimed, louder than necessary, jumping a little and giving Buffy a big, crushing hug, "because the two of you are so totally in love!", she said finally making some kind of dance that reminded her of Snoopy.

Her friend's gaze was skeptical. "We are?"

"Of course!" Willow said happily, then a thought crossed her mind. "But how did your mom react?" she asked compassionately.

The unexpected mention of Joyce brought Buffy to the verge of tears for the second time that evening. "My... my mom?!!"

"Yeah," Willow confirmed, "I imagine she wasn't thrilled to hear you've decided to stay here with us, was she?" As Buffy's face fell, it dawned on Willow that the evening had probably taken a different course than she had expected. "You talked to her, didn't you?" she asked carefully.

Buffy fought against despair and lost. A tear slid down her cheek. "No," she said weakly, her voice trembling. "No...", feeling faint she went to the nearest chair she could take a hold of.

Willow rushed up to her and embraced her, while Buffy was sobbing at her shoulder. "I don't understand this," Willow said in confusion, "When I talked to Spike this afternoon, I was totally positive he would let you call your mom - he said the picnic was his parting gift, and that he was letting you go because he... God, Buffy, he loves you! I know he does, and so much!!, that's why he had resolved to let you go... I'd never thought he'd change his mind! I even saw him putting a satellite cell-phone in his pocket!"

Buffy stared at Willow in terror, still no feeling the strength to stand up. Spike's face came back to her mind in a rush. Buffy... we need to talk... "I fell asleep before he started talking," Buffy remembered. You didn't hear a word of what I was saying! "I didn't..." She recalled the little scene by the fire ... you're never ever gonna give me as much as one chance to tell my mother I'm alive... "His face... the sound of his voice... his reaction had been so strange, why didn't I..." You don't know that... "His... his clothes," Buffy stumbled, "he was holding on to that bundle tightly all the time... I didn't think... and then I said..." If you really loved me, you wouldn't hold a sheik's garments in your hands now, but a satellite cellphone. She buried her face in her hands. "No... this isn't happening..."

"Buffy?" Willow asked tentatively, not quite understanding what had passed between them, but having heard enough to know that it wasn't a good thing.

It took Buffy a moment to calm down and form a thought. Then she straightened her shoulders, stood up and resolvedly said "I need to see him."

"NOW?"

"Now," Buffy confirmed. She headed for the exit when a black-clad figure blocked her way. "No going out after curfew for the little girls," Drusilla drawled.

"I have to see Spike," Buffy told her. "This is important, so buzz off, Dru!"

Dru shook her head. "What you have to say can wait until he calls for you. Good night."

Buffy tried to push her away, but the eunuchs had already bolted the doors for the night.

Buffy knocked at the doors angrily, but to no avail.

"Maybe it's better this way," Willow tried to comfort her, "When you both have slept over it and get a chance to cool down, it'll be alright."

Buffy looked doubtful. Clearly not satisfied at how the evening had worked out for the worst and in frustration and fear of the following morning, she went to bed, laying out a careful apology, going through her lines over and over again. It was a misunderstanding. She would go to see Spike first thing in the morning, tell him how she had fallen asleep during his speech and never heard what he had said, and that there was in fact a lot going on in the romance department, that he wasn’t alone in all this. And if he wouldn't listen, she was just going to kiss him again. For a moment Buffy pictured herself dialing her mother's number, telling her where she was and that she was in good health. Her mother would come over with Dawnie, and Buffy almost giggled a little when she imagined her little sister's face on being told that Buffy was technically a married woman. Joyce and Dawn would adore Spike, she was sure. Willow was right. Everything was going to be alright. And in that sweet act of self-deception, Buffy drifted off to sleep.


*


The next day brought a surprise for Buffy. She was called for immediately after breakfast, yet not by Spike, but Drusilla. All the way, she wondered what the sheik's first wife wanted from her. Buffy could not put her finger on it, but something about Dru made her blood run cold every single time she saw and talked to her, like she was brewing some evil plan to get rid of her. Drusilla was waiting for her in the reception room. And she was not alone.

A young woman about Buffy's age was standing next to her. She was dressed in a pink costume and had apparently brought a hoard of pink bags, suitcases and cardboard boxes. Her long blond hair was carefully styled, her pink nail polish and lipstick matched exactly the colour of her clothes and accessories so that Buffy felt immediately reminded of a Malibu Barbie that had been Dawn's pride and joy a few years ago. The woman looked around with big baby blue eyes and beamed when Buffy entered the room.

"Buffy, there you are," Drusilla said in a casual tone, "This is Harmony."

"Oh my god, I LOVE your dress," Harmony giggled.

Dru ignored her and addressed Buffy. Her tone was that of an educated lady addressing a particularly daft slave. "Harmony is going to live with us," she informed Buffy, "Take her baggage to the serail."

Buffy blinked. "What are the eunuchs here for?"

Dru sighed impatiently. "The eunuchs are guards to the serail, not baggage handlers at a five-star hotel. Do not question my orders. I hate having to say things twice, but it seems that I have to spell it out for you. Take. Harmony's. Baggage. To. The. Harem. You don't have anything else to do anyway since you do not view yourself as the sheik's wife and therefore you have none of the duties and responsibilities that WE have." She smirked ambiguously.

I'm not your wife, Spike, and I never will be. Buffy felt the heat rising in her face. He told her?

Drusilla did not seem to notice Buffy's agitation, or she simply ignored it. "So? What are you waiting for then? Show Harmony around her new home and give her something... else to wear. When she's settled in, take her to Khari."

Her condescending behaviour made Buffy furious. "Why don't you do it yourself?" Buffy said, sounding more snappish than she had intended.

"I have a child to look after," Dru replied coldly, "So, while I'm trying to explain to my son that his father is not evil, even though one of his wives avoids him like the plague, would you kindly take care of our new housemate!" She turned on her heel and floated out of the room, taking the bad vibrations with her.

"She seems nice," Harmony commented.

"Yeah," Buffy said and cast Harmony an odd look. Dru? Nice? Sensitive much? With a sigh, Buffy tried to take Harmony's first suitcase. It was so heavy Buffy was unable to lift it from the floor and only succeeded at the third attempt. What on earth did that woman pack?

"This is such a great place, with all the decorations, the exquisite marble, and have you seen the gardens? So beautiful!" Harmony continued, not realizing Buffy lived there in the first place.

"As far as jails go," Buffy conceded.

Harmony looked puzzled. "Jails?"

"Well, you've been kidnapped, too, I guess," Buffy said.

Harmony laughed. "You're pulling my leg! Very funny, Bunny, great sense of humour."

Buffy stared awkwardly at the suitcases, hands in her hips. Kidnappers did not normally allow their hostages any luggage. "Well, coming here wasn't.... your own idea, was it?" Buffy asked in a shock.

"Khari is so wonderful," Harmony explained with puppy dog eyes, "We met in Los Angeles, I was working for Wolfram & Hart, a law firm representing his business interests on the US oil market. What can I say? It was love at first sight! That was six months ago. You wouldn't believe how long it takes to quit a job, find a new tenant for your apartment and pack your things. Can't believe I'm here at last!"

Buffy took in a sharp breath. "You chose to be here?"

"Well, duh, of course! What's your problem?" Harmony shrugged. "Who would want to be a secretary if you can be a queen?" She giggled. "Let alone his queen. You'd have to be an idiot not to jump at the chance! Did I mention I just LOVE your dress?"

Buffy showed Harmony around the palace, avoiding conversation, if you could call it that, as far as possible and took her to the bathroom. With annoyance, she noticed Harmony was surrounded by a fresh scent despite of her long flight and had acquainted herself with the local customs, explaining she had had the waxing done back in Los Angeles. Teacher's pet! Buffy frowned at it, but did not make a comment. Given the choice between a similar range of dresses Buffy had been presented with, Harmony immediately picked the same pink nothing Buffy had been forced to wear on her first day, insisting it was "so cute". The dress flattered Harmony's luscious curves. To Buffy's dismay, the dress suited the ex-secretary much better than herself. Willow cast Harmony an admiring look when she brought a collection of expensive jewels, "the sheik's welcome present".

Harmony beamed.

Buffy was boiling inside. She hadn't gotten any welcome presents.

"They're pink, look how well it goes with the dress, pink is my favourite colour, how did he know?!" Harmony asked in a high-pitched voice.

Buffy looked at the pink cases, bags and the clothes Harmony had worn. "Yeah, who would have guessed?" she commented acidly.

Willow shook her head slightly in warning. "Isn't she lovely, Buffy?"

Buffy shrugged. What would Tara say if she caught Willow's gaze on Harmony's perfect breasts, which showed clearly through the transparent satin?

"Why don't you take Harmony to Spike?" Buffy suggested immediately. She wanted to talk to Spike, yes, but certainly not in that bimbo's presence.

Willow smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I can't. Dru said explicitly that Spike wants you to help Harmony settle in."

Buffy sighed in resignation. "C'mon, princess," she told Harmony.

The irony in her voice was completely lost on the newbie. She followed Buffy to the sheik's quarters without ever stopping her yapping. The corridors had never been that long, the palace never that spacious.

Buffy wanted to weep with relief when they finally reached the now familiar double doors.

"Here we are," Buffy said, "If you don't find your way back, ask one of the eunuchs, they're always glad to help."

"Don't leave me here," Harmony begged, "Can't you stay another minute? I haven't seen Khari in six months, what if it's weird? I just don't wanna go in there alone. Pleeeease."

Her voice was so panicky and high Buffy almost felt sorry for her and for the million-dollar vases nearby. She knocked firmly at the door.

When there was no reply, she opened the door and walked in, with Harmony in tow. "Spike?" she asked, bracing herself for the encounter. "You have some company!"

There was some noise in the adjoining bathroom. Water was being turned off. After a moment, Spike appeared in the main room, his hair wet, drops of water still glistening like pearls on his skin. He had tied a white towel loosely around his waist. 'God, THIS was torture!!' Buffy thought.

He smiled when he saw Harmony. "Sorry 'bout that, I didn't expect you this early," he apologized, ignoring Buffy.

Harmony smiled back. "I took an earlier flight."

He walked up to her, his hand touching her arm, and kissed her cheek lightly. "Glad you made it. Welcome."

Harmony giggled when his wet body brushed against her thin dress, leaving cool spots of water. "Thanks. Did I mention I LOVE those jewels? Thank you so much!"

"My pleasure. They flatter your beauty."

Buffy rolled her eyes.

Spike did not seem to notice. "Did you have a good flight, luv?" he asked Harmony.

"The flight was alright, but those stewardesses! One of them told me a colleague of hers was traumatized because of a hijacking that occurred recently, on her flight. They even took hostages, and one girl is still missing!"

Buffy tensed, her heart beating faster. "What about that girl?"

Harmony blinked. "Huh?"

"That girl. The girl that was kidnapped. Are they still looking for her? Has her mother talked to the authorities? Do they have any clue where they took her?"

For the first time, Spike acknowledged her presence. "Stop questioning Harmony, Buffy," he said warningly, while, he could tell, Buffy was fuming inside. "I'm sure she's very tired after her long journey." He ran his fingers through Harmony's hair. "Aren't you, pet?" The expression on his face was that of a predator, undressing Harmony with his eyes, seducing her with a smile, making Buffy's knees go weak until she reminded herself it was not her he was looking at.

Harmony flung her arms around him and kissed his neck. "Not THAT tired." She pressed against him in a way that made Buffy feel queasy.

While Spike was kissing Harmony, his hand traveled down her body, making her shiver with anticipation.

He broke the kiss and gazed at Buffy over Harmony's shoulder. "Thank you for showing Harmony around, Buffy. I think I'll take it from here. You are dismissed"

"Of course," Buffy replied, trying to keep her disgust and heartbreak out of her voice.

"So, unless you want to join us, you should really go now," Spike suggested, slowly unbuttoning Harmony's dress.

This was too much for Buffy. She could not just stand there, watching him making out with that woman when there was so much she had to say. "I need to talk to you," Buffy said in a low and rasping voice.

Spike's eyes showed just a glimpse of sadness and longing, but only for the fraction of a second for he immediately replaced it with a carefully stage-managed cool look. Buffy was confused. Could it be that he was just as uncomfortable with the situation as she was? She searched his face for another sign of emotion, but Spike's face was unreadable once more, as if the soulful look she had caught just for a moment ago had never been there at all.

Come on, Spike. Give me something. Anything.

But his voice was even and cold when he replied, "I have nothing to say to you. Just go."

Without looking at them, Buffy fled. When she was out in the corridor again, her back against the wall holding her upright, she hesitated before closing the door. But then, she heard Harmony's little moans and cries from the room, and she heard Spike talking in a soft voice, commenting on her smooth skin and her lovely hair. Buffy shook her head. No, he was not going through with this. He was in love with her, so no wonder he was hurt, disappointed and waiting for his chance to get his own back on her. Not a chance in hell that he could be serious about Harmony. Soon enough he would be crawling back to her to kiss the ground she walked on. She could go back to the harem without worries. She hesitated. Better be sure. Better see by herself how he refused Harmony. What if she did not close the door completely? She left a crack open and peeped through it into the main room. What she saw made her gasp.

They were both naked, their clothes crumpled heaps on the floor. Harmony was bent forward over the divan while Spike was standing behind her, running his hands over her body, tantalizingly slowly, while she was clutching the divan and shivering in anticipation.

Buffy watched with morbid fascination.

Suddenly, Spike raised his head to look at the door.

Buffy wanted to back away immediately, but too late. Their eyes locked. Spike slowed down his movements, making Harmony whimper in frustration. Not taking his eyes off of Buffy, he turned Harmony around towards him, pulling her so close her head came to rest on his shoulder. He began to stimulate Harmony's clit, torturing her with light, delicate touches and slow movements until her wetness was gushing all over his hand.

Buffy's eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn't be serious. This wasn't happening, couldn't, shouldn't!!

"Please," Harmony whispered.

"Please stop, or please go on?" Spike asked her, his voice low and rough, his eyes still on Buffy.

"You know exactly what I mean," Harmony complained, her words trailing off in a soft moan.

"The latter then, I guess," Spike replied silkily. Instead of an answer, Harmony spread her legs and pulled him closer.

Buffy meant to turn and run away, but she remained at the threshold petrified. Spike winked at her, very briefly, as if blinking away something in his eye.

He must have done something else Buffy did not noticed because at that very moment, Harmony clasped his shoulders, shaking with the force of her climax. Spike lifted her in his arms and lay her down on the divan, then joining her.

Buffy watched the scene. It was like extremely good porn, as if they had had years of practice together, as if Harmony belonged there, in his arms. It made her mad. And she really wanted to go away. But she needed to see if he was going all the way with Harmony. If Willow was correct, if Spike really loved her, there was no way he would do that with her. It was just a feeble attempt to make her jealous. And to Buffy's dismay, it worked... Up to now, all she had seen was foreplay, while Spike was never looking at Harmony's face, but exclusively at Buffy.

"My turn," Harmony declared and flung herself on top of him. She slid a hand down his body and began to stroke his shaft.

Buffy stared disbelievingly.

Spike's skin was slightly flushed, his blue eyes watered, and she saw the vein at his neck throbbing as he bucked his hips. He shivered and was breathing heavily, his eyelids fluttered. "Oh, God, B... baby," Spike murmured incoherently.

Buffy shivered. Oh, God, Buffy. 'No, that's not what he said,' the little voice in Buffy's head insisted.

Buffy shuddered, eyes watering. She had to get the hell out of here. So, she ran, faster than ever. It was only when she arrived at the harem that Buffy realized her face was burning, with what? She didn’t know. Perhaps rage, maybe jelousy, heartbreak almost certainly. She hated Harmony with all her heart. And how about Spike? How could he do this to her?

Even before Buffy entered the harem, she heard Faith's voice from within.

"Seems like our husband has found a new favourite," Faith remarked, "Spike's never been that generous with welcome presents before. And, he usually asks five of us to see him and picks the newbie, but he asked for Harmony explicitly!" She grinned. "Must be looove!"

Buffy tried to sneak past the girls, but Willow spotted her. "Hey, Buffy," she said, "Sit down! We were just talking about Harmony."

"Great," Buffy said gloomily.

"So what can you tell us?" Faith inquired.

Buffy shrugged, trying not to blush. "I've hardly spoken two words with her. Probably because she kept talking all the time and I had no breath left 'cos I had to carry her tons of makeup."

Faith smiled. "Someone's a little jealous, huh?"

"Shut up, Faith," Buffy protested, "I'm not jealous, I don't care what Spike does..."

"Or whom..." Faith added with a sheepish grin.

"And even if I did, I certainly wouldn't be jealous of Malibu Barbie! She hasn't got any style, or taste, or a brain..."

"Definitely, no jealousy," Faith said ironically. "Take it easy, B, we all went through this. Monogamy is for wimps. Learn to share!"

For no obvious reason, Tara blushed deeply, casting Willow a shy side glance. Buffy realized that it was not sharing Spike with the other women, but sharing Willow with Spike that caused the quiet girl trouble. Buffy felt very sympathetic with her.


*




A little earlier...

Some time before Harmony arrived, Spike woke up to the dazzling morning sun shining through his windows. In the light of the morning sun, things did not look quite as bleak for him as they had the night before. It had stung to hear what Buffy was thinking of him and their situation, but she had made it very clear that there was not going to be a romance of any kind between them, not in these conditions. She had very well said so. But he had kissed her, and she had kissed him back. He had seen the look on her face when he had taken off his shirt. He still had the marks where her fingernails had dug into his shoulders. She had told him she felt safe with him. Safe enough even to fall asleep in his arms. Buffy hadn't just been caught up in the moment. She wanted to dance. Soon enough, she would come crawling back to him, to kiss the ground he walked on.

Spike went to his spacious shower to clear his thoughts. As the hot water was pouring down his body, his spirits awakened. He recalled the evening in his mind's eye. He could see her there, in the garden, the fire casting a red-orange glow in her hair, her skin showing through the wet dress. As she was sitting there, lips slightly parted, with a shy glance, practically inviting him to kiss her. He smiled wolfishly. What if the stupid fireworks hadn't started just then? In his mind, he ripped her dress to shreds while she battled with the belt of his jeans with her trembling hands, then she would push them down his legs, running her hands down his body. Spike's hand would travel south as more water poured down on him, trying to accommodate his massive hard-on. He thought of Buffy's lips, her little pink tongue, how she... his grip around his length tightened. He told himself that this was just a normal reaction, that he would get his release quickly and then go back to normal, no big deal. As he was stroking himself, he imagined Buffy spread eagled on the diwan, with hooded eyes and shallow breath, pulling him down to her, in her, screaming his name as he started pounding into her...

"Spike!"

His eyes flew open. This wasn't part of the fantasy. Buffy's voice, here, in his rooms, steps, getting dangerously close to the bathroom. He cursed under his breath and turned the water to cold, clenching his teeth as his erection diminished abruptly.

"Spike?" Buffy's voice came from the adjoining room. "You have some company!"

Company... he swore silently. Harm. He had completely forgotten that she was arriving today. The pretty secretary at his American law firm had been a nice distraction on his travels, and he had been eager to add her to his harem. The puppy dog eyes she gave him had been both flattering and adorable, you can say that he was fond of Harmony, no doubt, though she was as daft as a muffin. But that had been before Buffy. Everything now counted as before Buffy, BB if you like. Now he desperately wished he had not inspired hopes in Harm he could never fulfill now. He turned off the water and fastened a white towel around his waist hastily. A look in the mirror told him that there was no clue in his face about what he had been doing. He put on a false smile and entered the main room.

"Sorry 'bout that, I didn't expect you this early," he apologized, making efforts not to look at Buffy at all. Buffy was eyeing him attentively. He could tell from the look on her face that she meant to talk to him, that she was not pleased with the way the evening had ended. But he was surely not bringing the topic up, especially not in Harmony's presence.

Harmony smiled at him. "I took an earlier flight."

Did he imagine it or was Buffy looking daggers at Harm? Spike decided to test his hypothesis. He walked up to the new girl, his hand touching her arm, and kissed her cheek lightly, deliberately brushing against her. The icy drops made her nipples harden when they made contact with her skin, soaking her dress. "Glad you made it. Welcome."

As was to be expected, Harmony giggled like a schoolgirl. "Thanks. Did I mention I LOVE those jewels? Thank you so much!"

The jewels. He thought hard. Which jewels had he given her, again? "My pleasure. They flatter your beauty."

Buffy rolled her eyes. Yeah, that's it, baby. Roll your eyes. Jealous much? He rejoiced, but pretended he did not see her agitated face. "Did you have a pleasant flight, luv?" he asked Harmony.

The girl was babbling something about stewardesses, and Buffy started questioning her about the world outside of the palace. There was strong evidence that the kidnapping Harmony was talking about had been Buffy's. Buffy's kidnapping still touched a nerve. Spike pushed the feeling of remorse away. "Stop questioning Harmony, Buffy," he said warningly. "I'm sure she's very tired after her long journey." Harmony's eyes didn't remotely look tired. I'm sure there are other things on her mind than sleep right now... He ran his fingers through Harmony's hair. "Aren't you, pet?" He was stalking her with a cold, almost professional strategy, while he kept watching Buffy from the edges of his vision. She was reacting. She was melting. Unfortunately, Harmony was melting even faster. She flung her arms around him and kissed his neck. "Not THAT tired."

Well, at least she was his type. Blond, pretty. Maybe, if he didn't look at her face, he could pretend... Spike shook his head. It was unfair to use Harmony to make Buffy jealous. "If you really loved me, you wouldn't hold a sheik's garments in your hands now, but a satellite cellphone..." I had that bloody phone in my hands! he thought in frustration. You think I'm a bad rude man with no feelings and a Casanova complex? I'll give you a Casanova complex... He started kissing Harmony, his hand traveled down her body, making her shiver with anticipation. Then his gaze met Buffy's. She was positively suffering.

He broke the kiss and gazed at Buffy over Harmony's shoulder. "Thank you for showing Harmony around, Buffy. I think I'll take it from here. You are dismissed"

"Of course," Buffy replied, evidently disgusted and shocked, but a little fascinated and curious as well. He decided to push things a little. "So, unless you want to join us, you should really go now," he suggested, slowly unbuttoning Harmony's dress before Buffy's very eyes.

Buffy looked at them with a hurtful expression that made him want to hug her, take all the pain away from her. But he kept a straight face, utterly resolved to remain distant. She had to take the first step.

"I need to talk to you," Buffy finally said in a low and raspy voice.

For a split second, Spike wanted to shove Harmony away, very very far away, to go find a sweet little farm boy with a good constitution for her and claim Buffy as his, accept her apology and profess his undying love for her... He fought the impulse down. He had to be sure she loved him first, before he made a fool of himself again. He would talk to her. Later. For the moment, he wanted to see her burn with jealousy. So he replied levelly: "I have nothing to say to you. Just go."

Buffy fled. He closed his eyes and listened closely. He heard neither the closing of the door nor her steps fading in the corridor. That meant she was still standing there, watching them, wanting to know if he would go all the way with Harmony. He had to play for time. He took an eternity to undress the girl and even longer for an elaborate foreplay, though his heart wasn't in it. Harmony was dying with tension. He felt Buffy's gaze on them, so he slowly raised his head to look at the door.

There. Locking his eyes with her. She was watching them, blushing furiously as he acknowledged her presence. He held Buffy's gaze, never looking away while he began to please Harmony with his talented hands. This show was just for Buffy. He'd be damned if he couldn't make her burst into the room and drag him off of Harmony, confessing her undying love for him.

"Please," Harmony whispered.

"Please stop, or please go on?" Spike asked her, lowering his voice, his eyes still on Buffy. Come on, girl, what are you waiting for? Does this look like fun? I want you here, Buffy, don't you see that?

"You know exactly what I mean," Harmony complained, her words trailing off in a soft moan.

Of course I know, but that's the fun in it. "The latter then, I guess," Spike replied silkily. Instead of an answer, Harmony spread her legs and pulled him closer.

Spike winked at the petrified Buffy, very briefly, but she had seen it, because she was blushing to an even darker red. When Harmony whimpered his name again, he turned back to her guiltily. There was no way for him out of this now. Unfortunately for him, Buffy had not burst into the room and made a scene, like he had wanted and dreamed of. But how was he supposed to go through with this without making Harmony feel rejected? Harmony had traveled so far just to be with him. She deserved a little attention. He shoved his fingers up her entrance and whispered naughty things into her ear, about how he wanted to see her come, and immediately Harmony reacted, shaken by the sheer force of her orgasm. Spike lifted her in his arms and lay her down on the divan, then joining her. Harmony shifted a little, spreading her legs, but he ran a hand lazily along her thigh.

"My turn," Harmony said and flung herself on top of him, then sliding a hand down his body. Spike surrendered to the moment, he was only just a man after all, with a beautiful woman on top of him of all things, and secretly admitting to himself that Harmony was extremely good at driving him insane. It gave him a sense of comfort, but that never altered the fact that while he enjoyed her attentions, he was thinking of another blond girl doing the same things to him right now. From his position, all he saw was long blond hair curling over naked shoulders, so he gave himself over to the illusion that it was Buffy, beautiful and sexy and everything he dreamed of. "Oh, God, B..." Buffy, he thought, but got himself under control at the very last second. "...baby," he sighed, his heart pounding in the face of this narrow escape. Luckily, Harmony did not seem to have noticed his little Freudian slip.

Like from far away, he heard hasty steps in the corridor. Buffy had left.

Spike clasped Harmony's hand. "Gotta stop doing that," he murmured.

Harmony smiled. "Showtime, then?" she asked and positioned herself above his groin.

Spike kissed her forehead. "Listen, pet," he said softly, "I'd love to, I really do, but... let's save some for tonight, ok? I have still loads of... places to be, I wish it was different, but the sooner I start, the sooner I'll be back."

Harmony's face fell. She looked utterly disappointed, heartbroken. "Did I... did I do something... wrong?" she stammered.

Spike shook his head, taking her hands and dropping a leisurely kiss on her shoulder. "You did great, pet. I just have too many things on my mind right now. You deserve better than that. I want it to be perfect. For you. That’s ok, isn’t it?"

Harmony nodded, still a little disappointed, but determined to please.

Spike let out a sharp breath of relief.

*


Buffy was lying awake at night. Harmony had not come back yet. Buffy knew by now that it was Spike's habit to keep a woman in his rooms all night, and they all had their little tasks - business advice, language classes -, but she could not imagine for the very life of her, what else Harmony might be good for except fantastic sex. She shook her head to get rid of the images in her head that only brought her despair. How could Spike even think of taking another woman to his bed after what had passed between them the night before... with a twinge of guilt Buffy remembered that she had pushed him away, accusing him of being indifferent to her pleas, while he was about to tell her he loved her and was ready to prove it by setting her free, one of the hardest thing you could do when you love deeply someone, letting them go.

The nagging voice in her mind told her that he had a little bit of a right to make a tantrum, for his pride was wounded. Her mind traveled back to her freshman year. What had been the first thing she had done after Angel had left her? She had turned to a bad copy of his, Parker, for comfort. And then, a year later when she had accidentally run into Angel on an L.A. visit to her father's, she had had nothing better to do than brag about her new boyfriend Riley and how happy they were, while in fact, she had been sorely missing Angel. Could it be that Spike was more similar to her than she wanted to admit? All in all, what she had been watching had been a little foreplay and a bj, but nothing that looked remotely like deep feelings or romantic love fests.

It made her sick to think of the way Harmony had touched him. She remembered his voice in the throws of passions, Oh, God, B... baby. A little less self-control, a little more ecstasy, and it would have been Oh, God, Buffy. It had to be. His voice rang in her ears, "So, unless you want to join us, you should really go now." Unless you want to join us... She had no desire to join Harmony, she could go to hell (or her law firm, no big difference there) for all Buffy cared. But the look she had seen in his eyes for just a fraction of a second, he thought it hadn't shown in his face, but it was not lost on her...

Buffy wished she had acted differently, been smarter, sexier. In her fantasy, Harmony vanished, leaving her alone with Spike. Buffy remembered the way he had looked, wearing nothing but that towel.

"I don't want to," she would have said.

Spike would have arched an eyebrow at her and replied something witty like, "The day you suss out what you do want, there'll probably be a parade. Seventy-six bloody trombones." [Trombones? Why did she come up with trombones in her fantasy? She had no idea, but it sounded so much like something he would say]

She would have taken a hesitant step towards him.

"Look, you don't have to say anything," Spike would have said, lowering his head and making a stop sign with his hand.

Instead of talking, she would have taken his hand in hers, with the other, she would have seized the back of his head and she would have kissed him. She recalled how his lips felt, soft, firm, gentle, demanding. Her breath sped up. She was going crazy just thinking of him. She tried to calm down. It was only a natural reaction. She was lonely, and she had been for too long.

Buffy looked around carefully. Even breaths all around her. The girls were sound asleep. No one would know if she tried to relax a little, take some of the tension out.

Buffy blushed slightly in the dark. It was always embarrassing to meet someone you had fantasized about face to face again, she couldn't possibly... or could she? Spike had blocked her attempt at apologizing, he probably wouldn’t like to speak to her again, so there would be no harm [no pun intended] done. So who cared if she let off some steam thinking about him, fantasizing about him? It was just a natural reaction. She would get her quick release and then pretend this had never happened, no big deal. Everyone was asleep. No one would have to know.

She knew it was forbidden, they were told to save their sexual energies for the sheik, but Spike had made it clear she was released from her duties in his bed. Buffy reached under the covers, pushing down her underwear. No preliminaries. She had to keep quiet under all circumstances.

"Why won't you sleep with me?" His question and his gaze sent shivers through her.

He walked closer. "C'mon, pet."

Buffy shook her head. Her mouth was dry.

"Take off your clothes," Spike said.

"No," Buffy replied defiantly.

He did not bother to ask twice. He pushed her dress up to her waist, parting her legs with his hands. His fingers found her clit.

Buffy gasped when her arousal became an overwhelming feeling in her body. She was not wasting a thought about stains which might betray her as she was touching herself, picking up speed, rubbing her clit desperately, so close to climax. She tossed her body from one side to the other, restlessly trying to get her release. Sweat was breaking from her skin, her wrist hurt, but she was getting closer and closer. She imagined Spike's perfect built, his hands all over her body. The heat between her folds became unbearable, wetness gushed over her hands, her muscles contracted uncontrollably as orgasmic bliss swept over her like a wave, carrying her away, far far away. With a silent cry and a soft moan, Buffy sank back into the pillows.

Only then did she open her eyes.

All the girls around her were awake, staring at her in despair and horror. The room was lit by torches, which were held by the eunuchs standing all around her, shaking their heads, serious expressions on their faces. Right in front of her was Drusilla, holding a torch, a cruel smile playing around her lips. With a jerk, Drusilla yanked away the blanket from her, leaving Buffy exposed to their gazes, her nightdress shoved up to her waist, lying in her own wetness, her fingers glistening with moisture in the dim light.

Buffy wanted to die of embarrassment, though she was sure now that literally she would get her wish, though a little extreme for her, those were the rules. Hectically, she put her nightdress down to cover herself.

Drusilla immensely enjoyed her triumph. "Hope you had your fun," she said coldly. "If you think the rules of the harem do not apply to you any more, you are gravely mistaken." A joyful, malicious little smile played around her lips. She turned to the guards. "Arrest her and take her to the sheik. Now!!!"

TBC...

Chapter 8: Disclosure


It was late at night when Drusilla knocked on the door to Spike's bedroom. It took him a moment to answer. He opened the door a crack wide. There were men you could not look at even after a good night of resting sleep and an extra hour in the bathroom. Spike was definitely not that kind of man. He was wearing nothing but a royal blue silk robe, loosely fitting and thus revealing much of his sculptured chest, his hair ruffled, but his eyes were wide awake.

"What is it, Dru?" he asked immediately in a dusky voice.

Dru lowered her head. "I apologize for disturbing you at this hour, my lord," she said devotedly.

There were noises coming from the bedroom. Buffy caught a glimpse of Harmony, who had been dozing off at the foot side of the bed, curled up like a dog [pathetic! just like her! Buffy thought], and was now slowly waking up, blinking in the bright light.

Spike glanced at the eunuchs and Buffy in alert. Buffy avoided looking at him.

"The laws of the serail have been broken… yet again," Dru explained self-importantly with unveiled satisfaction, "The offender was taken into custody and awaits judgment." She bowed her head. "My lord, we all know you will judge wisely, for such is your sensible character and devise the punishment fit for her infringement."

Spike wrapped his robe around him more closely, suddenly taking more notice of Drusilla that he had done in years, and opened the door completely. His heart sank when he saw Buffy, just as he feared, looking very small and vulnerable, hanging by the arms of two bulky guards, her feet didn’t even touch the ground. Dark suspicions entered his mind. Had he overdone it? ‘Course you did you stupid git! Had Buffy tried to run away again? Of course she did! This was Buffy after all. His heart was pounding in his chest, though he wasn’t so sure if it was because he was seeing Buffy in this most unpromising situation or seeing Buffy again, full stop. If Buffy was to be punished again, this time it would be his fault. He looked at Dru questioningly. His voice was rough, trying to sound angry and annoyed, as he tried to keep it from shaking. "What the bloody hell happened?"

Buffy went red in the face as Drusilla bent close to his ear and reported her version.

Spike put a hand to his forehead, massaging his temples, slowly shaking his head. There was no room for interpretation here. There were rules, and there were witnesses. How was he supposed to get Buffy out of the line of fire this time? He needed a plan. And he needed one soon. One that was bulletproof.

The whole scene had caught Harmony's attention. The new girl flung a blanket around her body and came to the door. "Is there anything wrong, blondie bear?" she asked sleepily.

Drusilla smiled condescendingly, Buffy frowned, and one of the eunuchs hardly suppressed a chuckle that would probably have cost him his head. Blondie bear?

Spike caressed her cheek. "Sorry, luv, I didn't want to wake you." His lips brushed against her forehead briefly, enough to appease her. He had to speak to Buffy alone, so he spoke to Harmony very softly. "Would you mind going to sleep at the harem? I'm afraid this can't wait till morning."

Harmony pouted. "I was hoping..."

He reached into her hair and pulled her close, looking deep into her eyes, making every effort to charm the girl into doing whatever he asked. "Please."

Harmony melted away. "Oh... okay," she whispered, breaking into a hysterical fit of giggles.

Apart from wanting to die of shame, Buffy wanted to throw up now. Great! This internal monologue ended with a questionable rolling of eyes, which luckily wasn’t perceived by any of the presents.

"Leave us alone for questioning," Spike instructed the others in a tone that didn’t leave room for questioning, with the exception of Drusilla, who right now had other priorities and they were above the orders of his majesty. Because getting rid of Buffy once and for all was at the top of her list. And this was the perfect opportunity, which she couldn’t… wouldn’t risk! So, she made her move, for all eyes a submissive move, but a move nonetheless.

Dru gave him a puzzled look. "With all due respect, my lord, I already told you what she did."

Spike shook his head. "We're talking capital punishment here, Dru. She has the right to state her case."

Dru's eyes reduced to slits. Spike could tell she was fuming, but she did not dare to object openly in front of his guard. That would have definitely been too much. And as much as she hated Buffy, she wouldn’t put her own neck on the line.

Buffy's blood ran cold. Capital punishment. Be careful what you wish for... ‘Cause dying of shame, was just an expression! She opened her mouth to speak, but Spike shot her a warning look, and she held her peace [The one thing that shuts her up! Spike thought] . She cast her eyes down because she could not bear to look at anyone right now; she no longer wanted to see Harmony's frustrated little pout, the guards' leering gazes or Drusilla's malicious expression.

Buffy heard the shuffling of feet behind her when the whole bunch of people departed through the double doors that led to the corridor, leaving her alone with Spike. Her heart sank. What was she supposed to say? Better wait until he broke the silence.

Reluctantly, she followed Spike into the bedroom. He locked the door behind her. When he turned around, she shrank back. His expression was furious, but he tried to keep his composure under great effort. "Is that true?" he asked in a low voice.

Buffy lowered her head, avoiding his gaze.

He started pacing restlessly, his voice harsh, but shaky. "God, Buffy, you KNEW the rules!"

"It didn't matter," Buffy defended herself, "You sent me away, remember?"

Spike ran a hand through his hair in a sort of helpless gesture. "Yeah, and instead of being content with that, which I might add was what you oh so desperately wanted, you had to break the laws of the harem yet again!"

"Break the laws?? Aren't you overreacting, just a little, maybe? I didn't try to steal your gold supplies or poison your water, did I?" Buffy commented dryly.

Spike looked at her as if she had gone mad. "This is not a game, it's politics! The janissaries already think I'm not the kind of leader my father was. Loyalties are fragile in politics, Buffy. The Sheik of Aftab-Rawad cannot allow anyone, let alone a woman, to defy his authority in public. If I don't punish you now, the consequences for me will be incalculable. We're talking death sentence here, not some harmless strokes with the chachurgha, and this time Kendra and the others won't be able to protect you!"

Buffy's eyes filled with tears, strangely enough it was as much because he was yelling at her as because she was to die for her offence. "It's not fair!" she protested in a weak attempt to find some comfort or sympathy in the man she … better not go there.

"Not fair!" Spike echoed her, snapping her out of her reverie, and suddenly feeling the strong desire to knock something over. He looked around and his gaze fell upon a vase in the corner. With a mighty blow, he cast it down on the floor where it shattered into a thousand pieces, one thousand dollars for each piece. Letting off some steam did not make him feel any better. He grabbed another vase and cast it against the wall with full force. Then he brought his fist down hard onto the coffee table, so hard, it made his hand hurt like hell, but the inner turmoil was fortunately going to delay somewhat that pain. "What were you THINKING?"

Buffy stared at him in terror, her eyes swimming. "I was thinking of you!" she yelled, she couldn’t take it anymore. The shame. The death sentence. Living in a harem for God’s sake!!. It was just too much and the tears came at last, naturally and freely.

There was a long moment of silence, their heavy breathing the only sound.

Spike's voice was no more than a whisper.

"What?"

Buffy's heart was still pounding, tears still flowing. He was so infuriated she was afraid he would hit her if she repeated what she had blurted out in a moment of helplessness. "Nothing," she said.

"I heard you," he told her, all the anger and frustration suddenly vanished from his tone as if they had never been there in the first place. "What do you mean, you were thinking of me? When exactly were you thinking of me?"

"Y'know... Then," Buffy gestured helplessly, never once locking eyes with him.

He walked up to her, clasping her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Not everything was lost, this was the loophole he was waiting for. And he suddenly knew how he was going to get both of them out of this without any trouble whatsoever. It was the perfect explanation. It would silence Dru and everyone else who tried to question it! It was perfect! Spike tried to ignore the very distracting little jubilant voice in his head that could not help but jump in euphoric joy at the thought that Buffy had been indeed jealous of Harmony, that she cared a little for him, that he was indeed the only visitor in her NC-17 dreams. Easy, mate. The girl will say anything to make you protect her from Dru or death, it just a survival instinct. But still... There was a good chance she was being truthful. He needed more so he asked for more. "Listen to me, Buffy. Your life may well depend on this, your answer. I need to know exactly what happened at the harem, what you were thinking of and when, when you were doing what you were doing."

Buffy looked at him disbelievingly and a little puzzled, it sounded more like a riddle than a question. "Drusilla told you. Don't make me say it."

"I know what Drusilla said," Spike snapped, "I need your side of the story if you want my help."

His words echoed in Buffy's mind for a moment as they stared at each other in silence, his firm grip still on her shoulders.

"I saw that look of yours," Buffy blurted out.

Spike frowned. "What the bleedin' hell are you talking about?"

"After I said I needed to talk to you and before you said you had nothing to say to me, remember? When you came out of the shower to meet Harmony? And don't try and tell me that was a coincidence, you wanted us to walk in on you like that," Buffy admonished, talking faster and faster, "God knows what you were doing in that shower! See? Finally it all comes down to you! It's your entire fault! And... and I-I-I know you saw me standing there when you were making out with Barbie girl, no, you counted on me standing there, you even looked at me, and then, and then..." She broke off.

Spike tilted his head, a little amused at her agitation. "And then?"

Buffy took a deep breath, making eye contact with him once again. "Alright, I touched myself. I know we're not allowed to, but I was so riled up. Are you happy now you made me say it, you made me do it?" Her voice barely audible by the end.

He drew in a sharp breath as he imagined how Dru had surprised Buffy, what she might have seen, Buffy's hand between her thighs as she came with his name on her lips. "Not quite." His voice sounded strangely remote, deeper than usual. "Show me."

Buffy blinked. "Show you what?" Then she understood and blushed deeply. "Oh." Buffy's heart was a supersonic beat. They had been playing games since they met, first her refusing him, then him refusing her, all the time teasing, provoking each other. And now those games were coming to an end? The situation was just surreal. They were still talking about her death sentence, but somehow here they were, in his bedroom, with no doubt in mind that all the tension that had been going on between them was about to be released. Why did it have to be now? Of all times! Why now when she was so confused about her own feelings and even more so about Spike's? She sought his face for some indication that he might have been kidding. He wasn't.

He let go off her and stepped aside, giving way to her so she could get to the bed.

"Isn't that the part when the guy kisses the girl and tells her everything's gonna be alright, and then the soft music starts and they roll about in the pillows, with all the good parts covered or out of camera range?" Buffy said somewhat jokingly.

Truth be told, Spike had been thinking the same exact thing and there was nothing he would have wanted more than to do THAT, right here, right now. But if he caved in and showed what he felt, there was a good chance he would never know if Buffy had come to him to save her life or if she was indeed thinking of him when she was feeling alone at night. Still the sense of relief Spike had felt when he had found the way to save Buffy’s life remained with him, and gave him enough calmness to solve the problems at hand with a clear head.

Buffy, however, didn't. He could see her squirm, torn between the anticipation of what he had suggested - Buffy had been watching him and Harmony for quite some time, and she had clearly been enjoying the show, but the thought of him watching her now, aroused her more than she would ever admit, to herself or to him - , and the fear she felt of what was going to happen after he had had his wicked way with her. "Buffy, if you are trying to ask if I am planning to ravish you, just ask," he said blankly.

"I wasn't trying to..." Buffy began. "Are you?" she added in a small voice.

Instead of an answer, he remained standing next to the bed. Better leave her in the dark about what he was up to. "Why don't you just take one step at a time?"

Buffy stood beside the bed, hesitating. "I don't think I can do this. Before you, I mean."

"You could do it before Drusilla, the eunuchs and the other girls, couldn't you?"

"That was different. I didn't know they were there, but I know you are here now."

"You just said you were imagining me there." He sighed. "So you were lying."

"No," Buffy hurried to say.

Spike stood waiting. "I can't help you if you won't trust me on this. Drusilla's accusations are extremely grave. I can't argue in your favour if I don't know exactly what happened." He flashed her a ghost of a smile. "But I'm also a nice guy under all this sheik crap, so if you’d be so kind, I'm just going to sit here and hear your version."

Buffy's knees were so weak she had to sit down on the bed. She felt the cool silk through her nightdress.

"I... I went to bed," she stumbled.

Spike blinked. "And? You don't go to sleep sitting."

"No." Slowly, reluctantly, she sat at the center of the bed and lay down.

Spike sat down on the bed next to her.

"I... I couldn't sleep," Buffy began.

Spike did not reply, but his eyes seemed to penetrate into the very soul of her.

Tentatively, with shaking hands, Buffy shoved up her nightdress, over her knees, up to her thighs. "I did have a blanket," she suddenly remembered, reaching for a blanket.

Spike took her hand and put it back to the hem of her nightdress. "No blanket," he said huskily.

It made Buffy shiver.

She pushed the nightdress further up, to the waist. Her hand traveled to the waistband of her underwear. A terrible suspicion entered her mind. Was he asking her to do this so he could justify a death sentence because he had witnessed it himself or because he was like any man and wouldn’t say no to a free show?

She looked at him doubtfully. "I'm doing this because you want to help me. Right?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice hoarse, his eyes hooded.

With a deep breath, Buffy slid her hand into her panties and began to massage her clit tentatively and slowly.

He kept watching her for a moment, squirming, breathing more raggedly with every minute that passed. "Buffy," he said finally.

Her eyes flew open, though never forgetting his everlasting presence. "Yes."

"You weren't wearing your panties."

She blushed. "H-h-how did you know?"

"I didn't."

Damn. Buffy pushed hesitantly her panties down her tanned legs, leaving them crumpled at the foot of the bed. Then she sank back into the pillows, thighs pressed closely together. Spike was still watching her. She pushed a hand between her thighs, trying to cover her privates from his view, and resumed touching herself.

"What's happening?" Spike whispered, running a hand along the side of her face, through her hair.

Buffy leaned into the touch. "You're touching me," Buffy replied absently, increasing the friction on her tiny pearl.

"Where?" he asked silkily.

Though her heartbeat was racing, she reached for his hand, intending to replace her own fingers with his. Shame quickly receding because, she thought, if she was a dead woman walking, she better made the best out of her borrowed time and what a better way to spend it and with whom. It was a bold gesture to make, but the tension of him being so close but not showing any sign of action was driving her insane. Spike gently withdrew his hand. "I think I get the idea," he said. "Keep showing me what happened then."

He was just sitting there, watching, talking in a tone as casual as if he were at a vernissage at her mother's gallery, and it was killing her. She tried to block his presence from her mind, but she did not quite succeed. Although she was soon close to madness with her arousal [could anyone actually go mad from sexual frustration? Buffy thought], she could not relax enough to let herself go. Her clit was throbbing painfully, moisture oozed down her hand and legs, but she could not push herself over the edge. Her wrist hurt badly from the unnatural position and the continuous work on herself. The tension was too much to take. Her moans turned into little sobs.

"Try to remember more details," Spike suggested in a low voice close to her ear, "Are you sure your legs weren't spread any further?"

Buffy shivered. But she spread her legs, not caring what he would have access to (eyes or hands) anymore.

"Run your index finger further down. Use the wetness to slide it over your clit more smoothly."

Buffy was too confused and too desperate to think straight. She just did what he told her. It felt amazing.

"Now feel for the spot between your clit and your lips. It should be quite sensitive."

Buffy felt for it and nodded.

"Imagine it's very cold. Your hand is trembling with cold, especially your fingers. All you need is to feel the vibes."

Buffy let out a cry when her hand trembled against her soft flesh, her whole body vibrating, tremors taking control of her, she panted for air, and suddenly she was all body, all emotion, a heat wave streaming from her body and leaving nothing but intense pleasure.

Spike smiled involuntarily as he was watching her. She was beautiful, and even more so when she came. Clouded eyes, flushed skin, uttering small cries and incoherent pleas, thrusting her hips against the invisible partner above her, arching her back in a bow, running her fingers over her pink flesh, moistening her dry lips with her tongue, forgetting about everything around her, including him.

"Thanks for the hint," she whispered finally, as she lay spread on her back, spent, and relaxing in the afterglow. There it was again, that look in his eyes that she longed to see again. She felt at peace with the world, with herself, and with Spike, finally, though she was disappointed it would last so little.

"Are you sure you didn't miss out on anything?" Spike asked her. "That was what happened? That was the actual course of events?"

Buffy tried to focus despite her fuzzy feelings. "I think it was pretty accurate."

He looked relieved.

She gave him a shy smile. "Why didn't you... y'know..."

"... join in?" he supplied.

She nodded.

A shadow fell over his face. He rose, turning from her so she would not notice the massive bulge under the blue silk of his robe. "Nothing's changed, Buffy. I'm not taking advantage of you". Spike said resolutely clearing his throat. "I think you've informed me about tonight's incident in graphic detail. But if you think your offer to have sex with me helps you avoid the death sentence, I hate to disappoint you."

Feeling a chill, chastising herself at being so stupid as to believe he would actually save her, Buffy angrily dressed and got up. "I don't believe you," she hissed. "I know what's going on in your head!" Frankly, I'll never have the foggiest idea about what's going on in that stubborn head of yours, but I know sure as hell how you feel about me! The thought that she might be wrong after all, that he had been mocking her all this time, was just too painful and humiliating to ponder. Her shame was growing with every minute, coming back with a vengeance, as was her fear when seeing she was completely dressed, he called for the guards.

"It'll only take them a minute to get here," he told her.

Buffy's heart sank. "They're gonna take me away?"

"They are," he confirmed her worst fears.

She stood petrified, wearing nothing but a nightdress, waiting, for the first time in her life, hopelessly resigned for her fateful destiny. This might be the last time she saw him, the last chance she would have to speak to him. "Spike," she hurried to say, suddenly desperate, "I..."

"Save your breath, Buffy. Whatever you say won't change my mind."

She broke off, whipping hastily her eyes and head away from him, so she wouldn’t start crying yet again.

They arrived, led by a glowing Drusilla.

Dru bowed her head. "Have you reached a verdict, my lord?"

Spike nodded. "Yeah. Thank you for reporting this incident to me immediately, pet."

Buffy stared at her feet gloomily. To add insult to injury, he was thanking that cow for betraying her?

Spike kept talking. "But I'm afraid it was all a misunderstanding. Buffy was not breaking the rules of the harem. As she assured me quite convincingly, she was dreaming. It was not a fantasy, it was a memory. In her sleep, she was merely re-experiencing what we did the other night."

Buffy raised her head, disbelievingly, when it registered with her what Spike was doing. He was saving her.

"But my lord,..." Dru objected, eyes wide.

"Thank you for your... awareness," he said, his tone soft, but resolved, his eyes dangerous. "The next time, let sleeping dogs lie, okay? Now this is settled, we can all get back to bed."

Dru bowed, then stormed out, fuming with rage.

The guards stood waiting.

Spike addressed them. "Can you escort Buffy back to the harem?"

Buffy caught his gaze. "Thank you," she said mouthing the words.

Their eyes locked.

"Good night, Buffy," Spike said kindly, refraining himself from caressing her cheek in a tender gesture. What he wanted to say, however, remained unspoken. Forgive me, luv. I had to be sure about where I stand. Where we stand.

Buffy bowed her head. "Good night... my lord."


TBC...

Chapter 9
Poison

It did not take long for the story to spread. Everyone at the palace was talking about Buffy in hushed voices behind closed doors, falling silent whenever she entered a room, which was ironic if you think about it, because the whispers were even more conspicuous. Drusilla no longer bothered to exchange a word with Buffy or any of the other girls of the serail, except Darla, and moved through the rooms like an angry and vengeful ghost, that is, in silent, careful, measured steps that conveyed her dark soul, and always looking daggers at Buffy whenever she deemed to see her.

Buffy knew she had made an enemy, but her mind was occupied with more important matters. She had been sure that Spike was going to ask for her, but again it was Harmony who was called to his chambers.

Thoughts of Harmony and Spike haunting her, yet still drowning in denial, Buffy lay awake the whole night, but Harmony did not return till morning. Two days after what was merely referred to as "the incident", the "old" gossip no longer holding their interest, Buffy was still expecting Spike to call her, or at least talk to her, but she was disappointed again. So, with an excited shriek, Harmony left the serial, once more.

On the third day, Buffy was getting annoyed. Who did he think he was? Did he expect her to sit all day just waiting for him to ask for her? It irritated the hell out of her when she realized that was precisely what she was doing.

Buffy so immersed in her own turmoil, that she never noticed the longing looks of Harmony when she went to Spike and the disappointment clearly written in her eyes when she returned. Harmony thought that listening to Spike's poetry every night was all very well, but she never got the action she hoped for; and Spike always kept his bedroom so dark when he was reciting that he never got to notice how pretty she looked, every grooming done in his favour.

And she was right, in the dim light of a single candle, it was unlikely for him to see more of Harmony than her shiny blond hair. She was secretly wondering what had happened to this passionate man in the few months between their first steamy encounter on her boss's desk back at the law firm and her arrival to his country. However, Harmony was too self-centered to make a connection between Spike's love poems to Buffy, her own superficial resemblance to the other woman and the badly lit room. So she pretended everything was perfect, that it was just a matter of time and that this was how things went around here.

When on the fourth day Harmony was again the 'chosen one', Buffy felt like smashing something, preferably Spike's skull. She tried not to let the others notice her hidden aggression, but she knew that it took merely a small stimulus to spark off a violent reaction, so Buffy tried to keep out of any conversation that threatened to break through her calm exterior. However, it did not take too long for someone to touch a nerve. As often, Faith was that someone.

"As I said, she's his new favourite," Faith sighed when Harmony floated out of the room in a very light dress - yet another shade of pink, and wondering how many could there be??-, casting a compassionate glance at the others.

Buffy, still sulking in a corner, did not reply.

"I hope she catches a cold or somethin', or else none of us will ever get any again, don't you agree, B?" She giggled. "Agree, B... I'm a poet!" She tilted her head. "Hey, Buffy!"

Buffy shrugged.

"Leave her alone, Faith," Kendra said warningly.

Faith ignored her. "Which reminds me, B, you haven't told us your side of the story yet."

Buffy blinked. "Story?"

Faith grinned. "Don't pretend not to know what I'm talking about. I mean, about you and Spike. How our friend Drusilla had you arrested for diddling yourself and Spike told her to sod off. Everyone's talking about it!"

"Then you don't need my version, I guess," Buffy said levelly. "You know what Spike said."

Faith sat a little closer to Buffy, speaking in a conspiratory tone. "So the show you gave us was just a 'dream', huh?" She indicated the quotation marks around 'dream' with her fingers, her expression and the sound of her voice implying she was not very convinced of that version. "Did he really say it was just a memory? Well, what did you remember? How come you haven't said a word? I thought he hadn't laid a hand on you yet! When exactly did this happen?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Buffy said weakly.

"Come on, we want some details!" Faith insisted, "Did you do it right on the diwan? No, let me guess. Traditionally - the bedroom, with Spike on top."

Buffy's hands balled into fists. Her cheeks coloured. She rose and made to leave before she lost her temper.

Faith followed her, turning her around and pointing a playful finger at her. "Tell ya what I think. You were just fantasizing the other night. He never even touched you because he's gotten tired of your little hard-to-get games, and that's what pisses you off! He was just covering for you!"

Faith realized too late that she had overdone it. Buffy lunged at her and slapped her hard in the face. Faith was stunned for a moment, then her eyes flashed briefly, and she hit back. Kendra jumped to her feet to separate them. "Girls, what are you doing? Are you insane?"

"She hit me first!" Faith protested.

"You had no right to..." Buffy began.

"What? To tell the truth?" Faith finished the sentence.

"Buffy, Faith, please..." Kendra began, but she found she was unable to form a thought. She suddenly felt really sick, her steps were unsteady; she was touching her sweaty forehead, swaying dangerously. She looked pale.

"Kendra, are you alright?" Faith asked, her voice suddenly full of concern.

Kendra's eyelids fluttered. "I'm not sure," she whispered, "My head's spinning..." She tried to sit down, but stumbled. Buffy was by her side in a second, steadying her.

"I'm alright, just a little dizzy," Kendra said, trying to stand on her own. Suddenly her legs gave way under her. Buffy caught her just in time.

"She's unconscious," Buffy said in alarm, "Get help!"

Faith nodded and ran out.


*


"I need to be in there with Kendra," Buffy told Willow, pacing restlessly in the garden.

"There's nothing we can do at the moment, the doctor's still with her," Willow replied, but her voice was very small and shaky.

"It's my fault," Buffy reproached herself, "If I hadn't attacked Faith..."

"It's probably nothing," Willow said, "In this climate it just happens, sometimes you don't get enough fresh air, it's hot, or you don't eat properly, maybe it's that special time of the month, and wham! You faint. Who knows? There could be so many other aspects. Don't blame yourself." She ended her speech with a pat on Buffy’s shoulder, trying to give her some reassurance and comfort.

Buffy shook her head. "Kendra has got an excellent constitution, she works out regularly, and she's used to the climate. She doesn't just faint. Maybe she ate something wrong. What did Kendra have for breakfast?"

"She didn't have breakfast with us," Willow reminded Buffy, "She went down to the bazaar for some shopping with Dru and Darla and some of the guards very early in the morning. I guess they had breakfast in town together."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Dru and Darla went to town with Kendra? Thought they were an exclusive little club?"

Willow nodded. "Yeah, I was a bit surprised too. Kendra and Dru don't seem to get along well."

"Did they invite her to come along?" Buffy inquired.

"I'm not sure," Willow admitted, "Maybe they were just being nice..."

Buffy frowned. "Dru and Darla?"

Willow looked at her insecurely. "Are you hinting at something?"

"I'm not sure. But it was Kendra who stepped in on my behalf when I tried to run away," Buffy said slowly, "And Dru was very upset she didn't get to see a public punishment. Kendra is my friend. Drusilla hates me!"

"Yeah, but..." Willow said helplessly. Then she realized that Buffy was about to draw an unbelievable conclusion. "Buffy, you don't think..."

Buffy's gaze traveled around the garden. Willow followed her gaze and spotted a couple of deadly nightshades. She had paid attention in her biology classes. These berries were extremely poisonous and could intercept the signals of your neural system. The first indications of belladonna poisoning were cold sweat, sickness, and finally... unconsciousness.

Buffy's expression was full of determination. "That sick bitch!" She headed for the palace.

"Buffy," Willow gasped, hardly keeping pace with her friend, "Wait!"

"Dru put something in Kendra's food!" Buffy said angrily. "Now she's gone too far! We are exposing her evil plans once and for all!" With secure steps, Buffy made her way back to the harem.

The women were still gathered in front of the door to the bedroom where Kendra was being examined by a doctor. While the others were wearing worried expressions - Kendra was very popular with the group - , Drusilla sat in a chair, smirking, almost bored, as if the whole situation did not concern her at all. She hardly acknowledged Buffy's presence when she burst into the room and stood before her with murderous rage in her eyes.

"What have you poisoned her with?" Buffy fumed.

While there were surprised and shocked little sounds from the others, Drusilla just smiled coldly. "What have you been smoking, Buffy?"

"Stop that, I know what you're up to," Buffy yelled, pulling Drusilla to her feet. "If you want to get your own back on me, don't take it out on Kendra! But if you mess with my friends, I'm gonna kick your ass!"

Drusilla shrugged levelly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The women were staring at them.

Buffy's eyes sparkled dangerously. "You can't stand Kendra, so why did you ask her to come if it wasn't for a purpose? I'm talking about you luring Kendra to go to town with you so you could poison her breakfast!"

Dru blinked rapidly. "What?!!"

"Drop the act, I'm seeing right through you!"

Drusilla sighed. "Look. Kendra asked to join me and Darla, she wanted to buy some new clothes."

"Shut up!" Buffy's palm caught Drusilla's cheek. "What did you use? Belladonna? Was it in her drink, did you slip it in there when she was in the bathroom?"

Drusilla held a hand to her reddened cheek. "You'd better keep your mouth shut before pronouncing accusations you cannot prove," she hissed.

Buffy slammed her roughly against the wall. "Admit it! This is all your fault!"

Drusilla's eyes were furious. "If you apologize to me within the next ten seconds, I'm willing to forget that you said anything like that and pretend this never happened."

"How generous!" Buffy was panting. "I'm not done with you. Kendra dies, you die." She made to hit Drusilla again when the door to the adjoining room opened.

Spike was staring at them. "What's going on?" he asked, his face deadpan.

Drusilla straightened her shoulders and smoothed her dress with her hands. "She attacked me," she said simply.

"Yeah, but just because she poisoned Kendra!" Buffy replied desperately, seeking Spike's gaze for support.

Spike blinked. "She did what?"

"I don't know where she got that ridiculous idea," Drusilla replied coldly.

"Kendra broke down after she had breakfast with Drusilla," Buffy defended herself, "And Drusilla hates me! She was so pissed off after Kendra helped me, I just know this is her fault!" Buffy looked at his blank expression and felt her eyes swimming with tears. "If Kendra dies..."

Spike shook his head. "Kendra won't die. She just needs some rest, the doctor says she'll be up and about in no time."

Relief washed over Buffy.

Drusilla looked slightly disappointed.

Buffy glared at her. "Too bad she's gonna live, huh? But if you think that's the end of it, you're so wrong! You won't get away with it. I know you did this to Kendra!"

Spike looked from one to the other, then he put a hand on Buffy's shoulder. "Buffy?"

Buffy felt an electric current run through her body at his touch. "Yes," she replied.

"I'm afraid you're wrong. In fact, I did this to Kendra."

Buffy's head flew around, she looked at him in confusion. "You?"

That moment, the door opened once again, and Kendra, still pale and shaky, dressed in loose silk robes, walked in. "What is all that noise about?"

The women were staring at her, she could see in their faces that they wanted to rush up to her with questions and good wishes for her health, but they hesitated to do so because she looked so weak and frail. Kendra was a strong woman, she hated looking so vulnerable.

"You should go back to bed," Spike said gently, "Buffy and Drusilla just had a slight disagreement, but that's settled now."

Kendra smiled faintly. "Good. I wouldn't want any disharmony at the palace now..."

Only then did Buffy notice the room behind Kendra was full of flowers, cheesy aluminium balloons, stuffed animals and other gifts.

Spike walked up to Kendra and took her hand. "Have some rest, luv."

Buffy felt an excruciating pang when she saw the expression of warmth in his eyes and heard the soft tone in which he talked to Kendra. The affection and understanding between them ran deeper than words.

Kendra smiled. "Have you told them?"

Spike shook his head. "I didn't get to tell them anything yet," he replied with a side glance at Buffy.

"Then I'll do it." Kendra took a deep breath. "You're going to be aunts again!"

With a squeal of joy, the women rushed up to Kendra, kissing and hugging her.

Buffy stayed away from them, sank down to the floor and covered her face with her hands. She felt so stupid. "And again, I've made a complete fool of myself!" she murmured. Not voicing though the renewal of that sharp pain running through her that actually made her unable to stand up and neither giving it much thought, she should be happy for Kendra and Spike.

Spike sat down next to her, watching how the others congratulated Kendra, starting to make plans for the new baby, and gave her an amused smile. "Told you I was responsible."

"I'm so sorry," Buffy said.

"Why don't you go and tell Drusilla?"

Buffy stared at him in shock. "Don't make me!"

He chuckled. "I won't. Just an idea."

"Look at Dru," Buffy said angrily, "She looks like she's drunk a pint of lemon juice."

"She's probably worried about Khari's future," he replied with a sigh, "Till now, he was my only heir."

Buffy blinked. "He's your first-born."

"Which doesn't entitle him to be the next sheik. In this country, I get to choose my heir from my whole family. It can be my son, a nephew, a cousin... any blood relation."

Buffy took in a sharp breath. "Oh." She looked at him doubtfully. "And will you choose Khari?"

Spike pushed a stray hair out of her face with his hand. "Why would you be interested in that?"

Buffy glared at him. "Yeah, right, I'm just a woman, why would I be interested in politics?"

He let out a deep breath. "That's not what I said."

"Is that what you were thinking?"

He did not reply. His gaze drifted off, watching the women feel Kendra's belly, suggesting names or wondering about the baby's gender. He smiled. "To answer your first question, I have no idea. Khari's so young, it is impossible to tell if he would make a good sheik. Kendra's won't be the last baby at the palace. When the time comes, I'll hopefully make the best possible choice for my people. It won't matter who the mother is. It could be anyone." He locked his gaze with hers. "Even you."

Buffy backed away, getting some distance between her and Spike. "Not me. Because I'd throw myself from the highest cliff before I'd have your child."

Buffy had expected him to be offended. Instead, Spike sounded amused. "We're in the desert, Buffy. It's quite a far walk to the nearest cliff."

Buffy pouted to hide the smile that wanted to break through. "There are towers."

Spike looked back at her. "You wouldn't want to throw yourself off a cliff or a tower, Buffy. Not with your face."

Buffy shook her head in determination. "Cheap compliments won’t get you anywhere, mister, as far as I’m concerned. I know I'm pretty, I don't need to hear it from you."

Spike shrugged. "I said 'Not with your face'. I didn't say you were pretty."

Now Buffy let the smile out. "But that's what you were thinking."

Spike did not reply, but he looked satisfied nonetheless.

Buffy tore her gaze away from his blue eyes and spotted Drusilla, who stood a few steps apart from the others, sulking, glaring at Kendra like the statue of an evil goddess. "Poor Kendra," she said quietly, "Drusilla really hates her."

"Give her time," Spike said, "When she's had time to think it through, she'll be happy for us."

Somehow, Buffy doubted that.

Over the heads of the other women, Kendra waved at Spike, signaling him to join her for the congratulations. He nodded in her direction, giving her the warmest smile.

"Gotta go," he told Buffy.

"Congratulations," Buffy murmured.

"Thanks."

With a dark expression, Buffy watched as he walked over to Kendra, put an arm around her waist and pulled her close to kiss her. Suddenly she felt a little uneasy, as if someone was watching her. Drusilla was looking her way. Their gazes met. If looks could kill, Buffy thought with a bad feeling in her gut. She decided to keep an eye on Spike's first wife, hoping for Khari's sake that she was wrong in her assessment of his mother's character.


*


Kendra was still weak after her collapse, but shining with an inner light that seemed to make her more beautiful with every hour that passed. Faith had suggested having a party for Kendra and the baby, which had been welcomed by virtually all the women. Merely Darla and Drusilla had not followed the invitation. Spike excused himself for business matters.

Buffy was relieved she would not have to put up with his presence and realized she was eager to experience any kind of distraction. The party was very different from the wild parties Buffy knew from her college, but she admitted she had more fun than at all of those put together. She did not have to waste a whole day on styling herself for some idiot kappa delta men who arrived so drunk that they would not have noticed anything strange even if she wore a paper bag over her head. She was not deaf after spending an hour listening to what her college friends called music and her mother called attempted genocide, and the girls at the harem actually taught her the basics of oriental dance. What looked so easy, took up nearly all of Buffy's concentration and had her sweating more than a very good workout, just in a matter of twenty minutes.

She was a little out of breath, but for the first time since her arrival, her spirit was soaring when she sat down next to Willow.

"I need a break!" she gasped.

Faith, who was shimmying her hips like no one else among them and apparently without the least effort, joined them. "Tara, why don't you sing us a little song?"

The shy girl blushed, but finally complied with the pleading of her friends.

She sat down, her eyes closed, and began to sing.

"Ahiboki jidan wa arifo an al tarik illa al mostaheel taweel.

Wa arifo anaki sitol nisaa.

Sitol nisaa. Wa laysa lazi badilon."

"When will I ever learn that language?" Buffy pouted. "It sounds so beautiful, but I have no idea what Tara's singing about!"

Willow was watching Tara with an entranced expression. "I love you so much and I know that the road to the impossible is long," she whispered absently. "But I also know that you are the queen of women./The queen of women, and no one can take your place."

"Oh." Buffy saw the look on Willow's face. Those two girls really were in love. She pitied them. Their love had no prospects in a world such as this one.

Tara opened her eyes as her song picked up speed. She looked directly at Willow:

"Ahiboki jidan, wa arifo anni aeisho be manfaa. Wa anti be manfaa."

Tears welled up in Willow's eyes. "I love you so much and I know you live in isolation, and I live in isolation," she murmured, more to herself than translating for Buffy. "And between you and I there is: wind and clouds and lightning and thunder and ice and fire./And I know that reaching your eyes is an illusion./And I know that reaching you would be suicide."

Buffy felt a chill. In California she would have thought it romantic and beautiful, no more than that. But she knew those words were more than just a sad love song here. It was the every day reality Willow and Tara were living in.

Willow broke off in her translation and kept looking at Tara lovingly, their eyes locking. She walked up to her and took her hand.

Tara squeezed it tightly as she finished her song, smiling at Willow, she herself on the verge of tears.

Buffy cast Faith an impatient look. "What's she singing now?" she hissed.

"And it would make me happy, /To tear myself to pieces for your sake, my precious one," Faith whispered back, "And I don't care if I escape from your love alive./And I don't care if I escape dead!" Faith rolled her eyes as the applause and cheering began and Tara thanked her audience with a polite nod of the head, glancing shyly at Willow. "Tara does that at every single party we have! Then Willow gives her the sad puppy look, and they stare at each other till dawn. Why can't they just give up on it?"

Buffy looked at them compassionately. "They're in love! It's only natural they want to shout it to the mountains! That's wonderful!"

"Yeah, maybe in America," Faith replied, "In this harem, it's death. People here don't have much love for lesbians. You saw what happened when you touched yourself, now imagine Willow groping Tara, and Dru catching them!"

"Spike covered for me when I got caught," Buffy commented without thinking.

"I knew it!" Faith exclaimed. "You didn't do anything with him!"

Buffy blushed and looked around anxiously to see if Faith's little outburst had drawn any attention, but the women were still focused on Tara. Buffy lowered her voice. "Can you yell just a little more loudly?"

"Sorry," Faith said lightly, "But I'm right! Right? Nothing happened?"

"No. At least... not yet."

Faith's eyes widened. "Ooh."

"That's beside the point," Buffy hurried to say, "I was talking about Willow and Tara. I'm sure he'll understand if..."

Faith looked at her in disbelief. "Just how clueless are you? Spike wouldn't give a damn about some smoochies going on between Wills and Tara, but there's nothing he could do about the laws. Got something to do with the code of honor. He has to be the one calling the shots. His own feelings are beside the point." Her eyes sparkled. "It's a shame, actually. I bet Spike would love to watch some Willow/Tara action."

Buffy wrinkled her nose, another wave of jealousy washing over her. "Thank you for that lovely image!"

"Any time, B!"

*

Joyce Summers had committed herself entirely to her work. The images of Buffy's abduction were still prominent in her head, she knew she would wake up at night screaming her daughter's name for the rest of her life, but she kept telling herself that the authorities were working on the case and were bound to find out something, anything!. Buffy was a pretty girl with blond hair and green eyes, she would certainly strike someone in a crowd of raven-haired, dark-skinned people. Joyce knew there was nothing she could do for Buffy at the moment, so she was working day and night acquiring expensive artwork for the obscenely rich customer she had not met in person so far, just in order not to dwell on what could befall a white young woman alone in a foreign country, or worse yet, not alone. Her customer had put a special emphasis on a beautifully sculpted Greek marble statue of the mythical nymph Galatea, who was currently owned by a private collector, an Englishman with a passion for the fine arts, who had made a fortune on the oil market at a considerably young age.

Joyce had made an appointment to see the owner at his villa at Cairo to make him an offer in the name of her client. One of the servants led her to a room which was called the Gallery and asked her to wait there for a few minutes and then he promptly left her to her musings.

Joyce gasped when she saw the statue.

This was finest artwork, more than twenty centuries old, but not a scratch marring the precious marble from which the statue had been sculpted. It was the figure of a woman, naked but for the starfish and shells at her feet and in her hair, which was cascading down to her hips. It had been sculpted with a lot of love for details, fingernails, eyelashes.

"Take a good look," a male voice with a British accent said self-importantly behind her, "You will never get that close to the Galatea again."

Joyce frowned at the man who was transpiring a lot in his warm tweed suit. A tweed suit? Who wore a tweed suit nowadays? Let alone in Egypt. She decided to be polite in spite of his tone. "I'm Joyce Summers, of the Barnes and Summers Gallery in Los Angeles, California. And you are?" she asked curiously.

"Professor Rupert Giles," he introduced himself. "I am meeting Mr Pryce about the Galatea, which I am going to purchase for the British Museum. I am the curator."

Joyce regarded him with an amused smile. "As far as I know, Mr Pryce hasn't sold the Galatea yet. I am here to make him an offer, and truth to be told, I am quite optimistic."

Professor Giles chuckled derisively, as one would when an important person made an utterly unamusing joke. "I do hope you have not come all the way from North America for this, for I am afraid you shall be gravely disappointed. You shall understand that Mr Pryce, being English, prefers this jewel going to the British Museum instead of disappearing in the Arabic world. Mr Pryce and I have practically come to an agreement already, there are just a few terms yet to be determined, mere formalities."

Joyce drew in a sharp breath. Her hunter's instincts leapt to life. "We shall see."

He eyed her suspiciously. "You are not trying to acquire the Galatea for your gallery, are you? Who is your client?"

Joyce smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid I can't give you that kind of information." The truth was that Joyce had in fact no idea about her client's identity, which was because she had been hired through her client's law firm in Los Angeles. But there was no need for Professor Giles to know that.

A few minutes and furtive glances later that were meant to try to size the other up, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce joined the two rivals in the Gallery, apologizing that he had left them waiting.

He cast the statue a longing look. "Isn't she beautiful?" he said quietly.

"Indeed, Mr Pryce," Professor Giles said, "We have chosen a very special spot for her at the British Museum."

"You haven't wanted to sell the Galatea for ten years. Why do you want to part with her now?" Joyce asked instinctively, only dimly aware of the fact that she might be ruining her business by reminding him that he might still change his mind.

A shadow fell over his face. "The sheik of Awtab-Rawad and several other collectors kept offering me obscene amounts of money for it, but I always turned them down. The statue brought me and my fiancée together in the first place. We rivaled for it at an auction, I won and invited her to dinner as a peace offer. She was Texan, her father an oil millionaire. That was how we met. My fiancée used to love the Galatea so much, and I never thought of giving it away. I wanted the sculpture to be my wedding gift."

An eight digit wedding gift, Joyce thought, but kept it to herself. "What happened?" she asked.

"When she went back to Texas to make the final arrangements for our wedding..." His voice trailed off, his blue eyes glistened with tears. "The plane..." He began to polish his glasses frantically.

"You don't have to say any more," Joyce said compassionately.

"No, no, I haven't talked about this in years," he insisted. "The plane... was hijacked. Winifred was taken hostage. They kidnapped her, vanished into the desert. I never knew what became of her. That was three years ago. So this sculpture, I'm afraid, is nothing more than a painful memory now."

Joyce thought of Buffy. She wanted to break down and cry with him. "I'm sorry about your loss," she whispered. Suddenly eager to escape the benign smile of the sculpture, the cold atmosphere of the villa and Professor Giles's impatient expression. "Thank you for your time, Mr Pryce," Joyce said gently, her voice cracking. "I believe this sculpture would be best kept in a museum. It doesn't seem to be very lucky."

Professor Giles gave Mr Pryce a pleased smile.

An hour later, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce signed the papers and sold the Galatea to a more than confused Joyce Summers.

TBC...