The Favourite

Chapter 10
Watch Your Back

Author's note: Brace yourself for some angst in the upcoming chapters. There are spoilers for BTVS "Becoming I" (S2) and "Entropy" (S6), but since we're in AU, they are not obvious if you haven't seen those episodes. If you've seen them, some things will sound familiar though. A big thanks to the wonderful Lucile for betaing this for me. You did a great job, lady!

Willow was brushing Kendra's dark hair and decorating it with pearls and other precious accessories, presenting Kendra with new jewels and expensive dresses, the latest signs of the sheik's affection.

Tara heaved a sigh watching them.

"Are you alright?" Buffy asked.

Tara nodded, blushing slightly.

Buffy grinned. "Don't worry, Kendra's so not interested in Willow. And all Willow sees is you."

Tara's eyes widened in fear as she looked around, checking to see if anyone was eavesdropping on them. There was no one around.

"You think...?" Tara asked hesitantly.

Buffy nodded. "Come on, Tara, do you really think people don't have eyes? The way you look at each other when you think no one's paying attention, the hundreds of times Willow holds your hand for comfort, the sad love songs at the parties, the way you guide her hips with your hands when you give her lessons in belly dancing... I don't think there's anyone here at the Palace who doesn't know there's more between you than just friendship."

Tara looked shocked and crimsoned even further. "Spike must never know!"

Buffy giggled. "Do you really think he doesn't know? Think about it. How long has it been since he last called you?"

Tara thought about it for a while. Finally, she shrugged helplessly. "I can't remember," she admitted.

Buffy smiled triumphantly. "See? And why do you think is that? He knows, and everyone else knows. I think the two of you should finally confess to what you feel. Maybe you could... have coffee together or something."

Tara hesitated. "I don't think... coffee would be a good idea. There are laws, you know..."

Buffy shook her head impatiently. "Yeah, laws that require I have... coffee with Spike, and does he care? I don't think he gives that much about tradition, or else he could have had me beheaded several times. I think what's important to him is your happiness. And if Willow makes you happy, I don't think he'll hold it against you."

Tara smiled. "This is the first time I've heard you say something nice about Spike."

"Uh... well..." Buffy stumbled.

Tara nodded knowingly. "You don't have to say anything. It's okay if you... y'know... wanna have coffee with him. And it's also okay if you don't."

Buffy chided herself for bringing up the stupid coffee metaphor and pulled her veil closer over her face. "So you're gonna talk to Willow?"

Tara shrugged. "Maybe. Later."

"That's a start."

With a satisfied smile, Buffy walked away. On her way out, she tripped and almost fell over something soft, lying on the floor. Buffy picked it up to look at it. It was pink. A stuffed animal. A pig.

*

Dawn eyed the pictures of the statue suspiciously. "So she is worth millions of dollars?" she said incredulously.

Joyce nodded. "Don't you like her?"

Dawn frowned. "She's overweight."

"Yeah, well, there were times in which girls didn't have to starve themselves to death to be considered beautiful," Joyce told her, "In fact, in most Arabic countries thin women are associated with barrenness and a woman like Galatea would be very desirable."

Dawn sighed. "Is that supposed to be a hint?"

Joyce looked at her guiltily. "Well, you have hardly been eating anything since..." She fell silent; Buffy's name had become a taboo.

"I'm not hungry," Dawn replied levelly.

"You're still growing, you need vitamins, and iron and lots of other things that..."

Dawn jumped from her seat. "I'm NOT hungry, mother!" She ran out, trying to hide her tears.

Joyce shook her head and regarded the statue silently. It was obvious that Dawn took out her anger on the lifeless object because she blamed it for Buffy's disappearance. If it had not been for the Galatea, they would never have come to Africa.

It was high time they delivered the statue to her client and...

"And then, what?" Joyce said to herself. "Go back to normal?" She sighed. "Who am I
kidding?"

*

There was a faint knock at the door. Spike looked up from his paperwork and was surprised to see Buffy. Hastily, he put away the papers, covering them with blank pages, and his face lit up considerably. "Buffy. Come on in! What's the matter?"

Buffy tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach and tried to sound casual. "Khari was down at the serail in the morning, he forgot his poor pig... We're not allowed in his part of the palace, and I didn't want to give it to Dru, so..." She put the small toy pig in front of Spike.

"That was very thoughtful of you, Buffy. I'm sure he's already looking for... Mr Gordo?"

Buffy smiled. "Hey, you're learning! I remember a time when you didn't know anything about..." your son, she thought, but she thought it wiser not to mention it. "...Mr Gordo!"

"Thanks to you." He paused, studying her expression. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied, casting her eyes down.

He gave the paperwork an annoyed sideways glance. "I could use a break. Can I ask you to have some coffee with me or will that get you mad at me again?"

Buffy first stared at him in shock, blushing furiously, then recalled there was no way he could know about her conversation with Tara. Coffee meant just coffee here. She smiled. "I guess that'll be alright."

He rose from behind his desk and gestured to the pillows on the floor of the adjoining room, where a tiny coffee set of precious china was already waiting. Spike waited until Buffy had helped herself to some coffee and sugar and had taken a sip before he began the small talk. "So, did you girls enjoy the party last night?"

Buffy nodded, "We had great food, and dancing, and music, Tara was singing for us..."

He smirked, "Of eternal love and longing? Stolen kisses and lonely nights?"

"You're a bad, rude man," Buffy said teasingly. "You of all people shouldn't mock romantics; you with your..." She stopped herself just in time.

"With my what?"

Jesus, Buffy, shut up! You don't know about his poetry, not officially! "With your..." She gestured helplessly. "With your faded Union Jack! That's it! Pretty sentimental, isn't it?"
He shrugged. "I guess." However, the look in his eyes told her he was not convinced that was what she had intended to say. Buffy blushed furiously and added some more sugar to her coffee, drinking it down hastily, her face distorting at the much too sweet flavour. He watched her with a smile. "So you're a hopeless romantic, Buffy?"

"Of course," she replied, then, at his disbelieving expression, added, , "I am! Really! I'm very romantic!"

"What? Red rose petals, candles, soft music, isn’t all cheesy and stupid?"

"No!" She emptied her coffee cup with a last disgusted gulp. "All those little gifts, balloons and flowers for Kendra, that was kinda sweet actually." She held his gaze and tried not to giggle like some teenager talking to her crush.

Spike's expression was suddenly serious. "How is Kendra this morning?"

"Fine," Buffy said, "She's up and about, and she looks very pretty. Relaxed. Happy," she added quietly.

"I want you to look at something and tell me what you think," Spike told her. "Hang on!" He disappeared into his study and re-emerged with what looked like an art catalogue. A shadow fell over Buffy's face as it reminded her of her mother and the gallery.

As Spike handed the catalogue to her and his fingers brushed hers for a moment, she had to fight the impulse to clasp his hand and hold on to him. She needed to focus.

"Page 239," Spike said. "It's supposed to be a gift."

Buffy skimmed the catalogue until she found the indicated page. It showed the beautiful white marble statue of a woman. "The Galatea," Buffy said, surprised. "That's quite a precious gift."

"You know something about art?"

"Well, yeah, my mom..." Buffy bit her tongue. "It doesn't matter."

"So what do you think?"

"It's nice," Buffy said helplessly.

Spike opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind.

"I'm sure Kendra will love it," she added.

Spike looked at her. "It's not a gift for Kendra, Buffy."

Buffy felt the heat rising in her face. "I think I'd better go," she said, jumping to her feet. "Thanks for the coffee."

Spike's first impulse was to go after her, but he forced himself to stay where he was. "You're welcome to have coffee with me any time you like."

Buffy held his gaze for a moment, shivering at the memory of his touch. "I'd love to... have coffee with you," she whispered, then floated from the room, closing the door behind her.

Spike frowned in confusion. "I never realized she liked coffee so much."

*

Buffy was on her way back to the harem when she heard voices coming from upstairs. She did not feel like discussing where she had been or what she had done so she hid behind one of the heavy brocade curtains. To her relief, it was not Faith or Willow.

"I was a bit scared, with the whole pregnancy and the birth. It was so nice of you to share your experience with me."

Buffy recognized Kendra's voice and peeked at the women from behind the curtain. She froze when she saw Drusilla next to her, dressed all in black, her expression unreadable behind the veil, but her eyes were piercing nonetheless. "Anytime, dearie," she drawled as they descended the stairs.

Buffy had a bad feeling about this. According to Willow, Drusilla had never been friends with anyone but Darla and treated the other girls like her subjects. She stepped out from behind the curtain to catch up with them when suddenly Drusilla turned around and looked at her, as if she had felt Buffy's gaze.

Everything that followed happened very fast, but it would continue to haunt Buffy in slow motion, Technicolor dreams for many years.

Drusilla's eyes narrowed into slits. Then she turned and took another step down - on the hem of Kendra's dress.

Kendra stumbled, stretched out her arms to reach for the banister.

Buffy rushed forward, yelling Kendra's name.

Drusilla's eyes widened with delight.

Kendra tried to clasp the banister - and missed.

Buffy reached the top of the stairs just when, with a strangled cry, Kendra lost her balance and fell.

"No!" Buffy cried as she helplessly watched Kendra tumble down the stairs, finally coming to lie at the foot of the stairs.

"Nighty-night," Drusilla said dreamily.

Buffy ran down the stairs to Kendra. "Kendra, can you hear me?" she panted, skidding down next to her on her knees, turning her around. Kendra’s eyes were closed, her body motionless. Buffy lifted Kendra's head to rest on her lap and realized with horror that her hands were covered in blood from a wound at the back of Kendra's head. "Please, no," Buffy whispered, taking Kendra's hand in hers, feeling for the pulse.

There was none.

Tears were streaming down her face. "Don't leave me," Buffy whimpered, stroking Kendra's face gently.

Drusilla walked down the stairs casually, looking down at the scene. "What an unfortunate accident."

"I saw all of it," Buffy said, shaking with anger. "I know what you did, and I'm going to tell the whole world!"

"Like you did with the belladonna I supposedly put in Kendra's drink?" Dru replied levelly. "Do you remember the story about the little shepherd's boy who kept yelling, 'A wolf, a wolf!'? There weren't too many people who believed him when it mattered, were there?"

"You're gonna pay," Buffy hissed before she began to scream for help.

*

Buffy had an awful sense of déjà vu when she and the other girls were pacing restlessly and talking in hushed voices, waiting for the doctors' verdict. This time, they had not even been allowed into the harem. They were waiting in the corridors.

"Drusilla's going down," Buffy said between clenched teeth.

Willow gave her a look compltely devoid of understanding. "Will you stop accusing Drusilla? All that matters now is Kendra!"

"But this wasn't an accident!" Buffy told her desperately, "Why won't you believe me? Yes, I was wrong about the poison. But this doesn't mean I'm crazy conspiracy girl, I saw what I saw!"

Willow shook her head angrily. "Grow up!"

That moment, Harmony came back from inside the harem, on the verge of tears.

"Anything new?" Willow asked her immediately.

Harmony let out a sob.

Buffy's face fell. "What?"

"It's so horrible!" Harmony whimpered, big crocodile's tears running down her cheeks.

"So Kendra's dead," Darla said evenly.

Harmony shrugged. "I don't know."

"Then what are you sobbing for?" Faith said angrily.

"He says he won't see anyone," Harmony sniffed. "Not even me."

"And you didn't ask about Kendra, moron?" Buffy yelled at her. "Just how dim-witted are you?" Buffy's hands balled into fists, she looked like she would lose her temper any minute.

Harmony stumbled back, looking anxious like a hurt puppy.

Faith stepped between Buffy and Harmony. "Stop picking on Harmony, B. It's not her fault she's not the brightest spark."

"Thanks," Harmony said in a small voice. "I guess."

Buffy gave Faith a reproachful look and reached for the handle. Faith caught her wrist.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To see Spike," Buffy said with resolve.

"Haven't you heard what Harmony said?" Faith asked in a dangerous tone, "He wants to be alone."

"I'll leave if he tells me to," Buffy replied.

"You're not going in there," Faith disagreed.

Buffy glowered at her. "Who's gonna stop me? You?"

Faith held her gaze, looking very upset.

For a moment, a fight seemed unavoidable. Then Faith stepped quietly aside. "We've had enough for one night," she said.

Buffy let out a deep breath and nodded at Faith. Then she opened the door and entered the harem.

Spike was facing the window, not looking at her as she entered. "Harmony, I told you to..." he said impatiently.

"It's me," Buffy said gently.

"Buffy," he said, his voice low, little more than a whisper.

She took a few tentative steps in his direction.

"Please, go back to the others." He tried to keep his voice from shaking.

Buffy stopped. "So many wives, and you're still all alone," she replied.

"I don't want this kind of discussion now, Buffy," Spike said coldly.

"Believe me, it helps to talk to someone," she insisted and walked closer.

"Get out," he snarled.

Buffy frowned. Something was seriously wrong here. She took a deep breath. "Coffee."

"What?" Spike snapped, still with his back turned at her.

"You said I could have coffee with you anytime I liked. I want coffee now."

He snorted. "Nice try. Now just go before I call the guards to drag you out."

Buffy walked behind him, clasping his shoulders. He shuddered at her touch. Hesitantly, she leaned against his back, feeling all of his muscles tense against her body. She began to stroke his arms, then gently massaged his shoulders. "Nice try," she whispered. "It's just... I'm not going anywhere." She ran her fingers through his tousled hair.

He drew in a sharp breath. Then he turned around.

Buffy gasped as she saw his expression.

He was paler than normally, lack of sleep and refusal of food made his face appear more haggard than usual, his eyes were red and swollen, his gaze desperate, empty. It was obvious he had been crying. Buffy knew it was stupid, but she had always thought of him as incapable of showing fear or sadness. She realized that was the reason he had sent the others away.

"You're not supposed to see me like this," he said as if he had read her mind.

"You're not supposed to care about any of us this much," Buffy replied. "What can I say? We're both rebels."

He tried to smile, but did not quite manage it. Instead, he hugged her tightly and held on to her like a drowning person. They stood like that for several minutes, bathed in moonlight. The only sounds were the muffled voices of the doctors from Kendra's room.

Buffy said nothing more, just listened to his breathing. She felt his despair, and her heart went out to him.

"What am I gonna do without her?" It was more a statement than a question.

Buffy reached out a hand to touch his face. It was wet with hot tears. "You do love her," she realized.

"Yes," Spike said simply. He rubbed his eyes. "I just wish she knew."

"I'm sure she knows." Buffy blinked away her own tears. "Kendra's strong. She'll be alright. And if your son..."

"...or daughter," Spike added.

"See? It's not that hard." Buffy winked. "If your son - or daughter - is even a bit like the two of you, everything's gonna be alright," she added firmly.

He shook his head in doubt, casting his eyes down.

"No," Buffy said, "Look at me. Say it. Say 'Everything's going to be alright'."

Spike's eyes locked with hers.

Then he pulled her close, inhaling her scent, clinging to her.

The world around Buffy disappeared. Her heart was pounding so hard she could almost hear it in the silence. She felt ashamed and stupid for holding Kendra's desperate husband while the other woman was fighting for her life and the life of his child, but Buffy could not help it; she could burst into flames and not care less.

"Spike," she began.

"No talking," he said softly, "Just hold me like this for a while."

"Spike, I..."

That moment, the team of doctors came from Kendra's room.

Buffy and Spike let go off each other so fast it seemed as if they had gotten themselves burned.

They both stared at the doctor expectantly, scared.

*

Willow was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The bad news had paralyzed her; she could not share her feelings with the others now. She desperately wished she had a shoulder to cry on, just someone to hold her hand when darkness fell, but she was sharing the man in her life with many other women, and (though she had sometimes believed otherwise during certain steamy moments) Spike had just two hands to hold.

Willow sighed. Bad things always happened to good people.

A shadow fell on the floor, from the doorway.

Willow sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Things fall apart. They fall apart so hard," Tara said quietly.

Willow looked at her in surprise, her breathing speeding up. "Tara."

Tara was desperate, anxious, but also determined to do what she had come for. "You can't ever put them back the way they were."

Willow rose, frowning. "Tara... are you okay?"

Tara nodded, then shook her head. "I'm sorry. I really shouldn't be here, I have no right to talk to you like this, we should take our time to learn if..." She took a deep breath. "If we can fit in each other's lives."

Willow looked at her hesitantly. "Is that what you want? To fit in each other's lives?"

"It's dangerous," Tara admitted.

"Yeah, definitely," Willow agreed.

"And it would be suicide to even think of it."

"Absolutely."

"So we'd better... think about this first, work it through."

Willow nodded, but looked at Tara sadly. "Of course."

"We wouldn't want to rush in."

"No, no, no rushing!"

Tara smiled shyly. "Can we just skip it? Can - can you just be kissing me now?"

Within a second, Willow was in Tara's arms, kissing her passionately.

*


*

The morning sun fell through the windows. Buffy could not help herself; she thought how the colour of Spike's robes brought out his blue eyes. She preferred light blue to black. It did not feel so sad. But maybe that was because she had grown up in a culture in which black was the traditional colour of mourning, so she just did not associate light blue with crying and funerals.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"You know... it would have been nice for Khari to have had a little brother or sister," Spike said thoughtfully.

"He will, and maybe even soon," Buffy pointed out.

"I didn't mean to sound ungrateful," Spike replied, "We were lucky Kendra survived. The doctor said that if her skull had hit the stairs just an inch further up..." His voice trailed off.

"There's nothing wrong with being sad. You guys have lost a child, it's gonna take time to heal."

"You're probably right," Spike replied. "Sometimes you forget how short life is. How you spend too much time trying to impress the wrong people. How important it is to seize every day."

There was a moment of silence.

Buffy cleared her throat, she was not sure how to say what she needed to, but she could not put it off any longer. "Spike, I understand if it's too painful at the moment, but... can I talk to you about... Kendra's... accident?" She used the word with a strange undertone.

Spike hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Sure." He gestured to the divan. They both sat down. He looked at her expectantly. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Spike, you know I was the one who found her and called for help."

"I'm sorry," he said guiltily, "With all the angst and confusion of last night, I haven't even thanked you for that. I'm really sorry, Buffy. If there's anything I can do to repay you..."

"No," Buffy hurried to say, "That's not it. I don't want you to thank me, and I don't need a reward." Only when she said it did she realize that she might have just given up her only chance of ever getting the phone call. She pushed the thought away. There were more important things than escape plans right now. "I saw it happen, Spike."

He took her hand. "That must have been horrible. I know you and Kendra have become very good friends. Dru told me how upset you were."

"Dru," Buffy said angrily. "Actually, this is exactly what I meant. This may come as a shock, but..." She took a deep breath. "Dru is responsible for Kendra's fall and the death of your child."

His eyes narrowed. "If you're implying Dru pushed Kendra down the stairs..."

"No," Buffy admitted, "But she stepped on Kendra's dress, so Kendra tripped and, and then she fell! I saw it, you have to believe me!"

"I believe it looked like that from where you stood." He sighed. "Buffy, what do you want me to say? Even if she did step on Kendra's dress, it was just an unfortunate accident!"

"She did it on purpose," Buffy said, "You said it yourself, she wants Khari to be the next sheik, so she had an interest in killing Kendra's baby."

"You're overstepping your boundaries, pet."

"No, Spike, I'm serious! Dru planned this!"

"Like she planned to poison Kendra with belladonna?" he asked ironically.

"That was just one tiny mistake! When will people stop holding that against me?" Buffy exploded. "Better safe than sorry, that's what my mom always..." She broke off, biting her lip. She heard Joyce's words in her mind for a moment, remembered her face.

Spike's expression was blank.

Buffy felt incredibly alone in the world.

"Listen, Buffy," Spike said in a softer voice, "Dru is a proud woman, she can be quite a diva actually, I understand if you have difficulty dealing with her, but that doesn't give you the right to blame her for everything that goes wrong in the world. She's not a demon or anything."

"No, she's a lunatic, and you are too blind with love to see it!" Buffy burst out.

Spike smirked. "Ah, now we're getting somewhere. You're jealous."

"No!" Buffy protested, trying to rise and get some distance between them, but Spike clasped her shoulders, keeping her down. She would not run away from this conversation this time if he could help it. She struggled against him.

"Not at all," Spike said sarcastically, tightening his grip.

"I'm not jealous!" Buffy disagreed, her eyes flashing as she made another effort to free herself, but Spike did not let go, and she was suddenly very much aware of his arms around her and his face only inches from hers.

She felt his breath in her face, and before she knew, her lips were brushing his mouth, her fingers trailing along the side of his face.

*

Tara stifled a nervous giggle when Willow's hand cupped one of her breasts. Willow's eyes flashed when her gaze met Tara's.

"Do you want me to stop?" Willow asked, mortified at the thought Tara might tell her to.

Tara gave her an encouraging smile. "No."

Willow grinned widely. She pushed Tara's dress up over her thighs to her waist, then elegantly disposed of Tara's undergarments. Tara shivered under Willow's skilled touch, but she did not pull away. Willow ran her hands over Tara's soft skin and luscious curves, then to the inside of her thighs, gently parting her legs.

Tara gasped.

*

Welcome to Wolfram & Hart, Los Angeles branch. Please hold the line. Joyce Summers was holding the line. It had taken that Eve woman an eternity to put her through to her contact at the law firm, and the line was cackling so much Joyce was afraid her connection would fail any minute.

After what seemed endless hours, someone picked up the phone.

"Lilah Morgan," a familiar voice said.

"Hello, this is Joyce Summers again," Joyce told her.

"Ah, Joyce. So good to talk to you. Anything new of your daughter?" Miss Morgan asked in a compassionate tone.

There was a moment of silence at the other end. "Sadly, no," she finally replied, trying to sound all business.

"Sorry to hear that," the attorney told her. Enough of small talk. Get to the point. Her tone was casual now, almost cheerful, switching moods like a good actress. "Then, I take it there is some news of the Galatea?"

"I've got it, as you wished," Joyce reported with more than a hint of pride.

She could almost hear Lilah's grin over the phone. "Very good, our client will be so pleased. Where is the statue now?"

"I can pick it up at Mr Wyndam-Pryce's tomorrow morning."

"Fine. Listen, Joyce, would you mind delivering the statue to our client in person? Just to make sure it arrives in one piece, and to answer any questions he might have?"

"Oh, okay," Joyce said, a little surprised.

"That's great, thank you, Joyce. You can meet our pilot at Mr Wynda- Pryce's estate, let's say..." Her hands slid over the computer keys. "... at seven in the morning? You should have enough time to get the statue ready for transport and get to the client before the midday heat sets in. The helicopter will take you back to the hotel after dark."

"No problem," Joyce said, "It's just that I really don't want to leave my younger daughter all alone at the hotel for the whole day. I don't want her to be on her own in case we..." She swallowed. "In case there is some news on Buffy. Do you think your client would mind her accompanying me?"

Lilah Morgan chuckled. "I don't think he will mind, Joyce. Feel free to bring her along. How old is your daughter, again?"

"Sixteen."

Lilah Morgan took a deep breath. "No, he won't mind at all. Just a word of advice, Joyce. Make sure the two of you are veiled when you travel. If people ask about the kid, tell everyone your daughter is married. The desert can be dangerous."

"Of course," Joyce replied, sounding a little puzzled.

"Have a good trip, then."

"Just one more thing, Miss Morgan."

"Yes?"

"You still haven't told me the name of our client."

"Oh, where are my manners? It is Sheik Khari Ahani of Aftab-Rawad."

Joyce drew in a breath. No wonder she had not been allowed to know who the client was. He was one of the richest men in Africa. If it had slipped her who she was working for, it would have doubled the Galatea's price. "Will you send me an interpreter, then?" Joyce asked in concern.

"That won't be necessary," Lilah said with an amused voice, "His English is excellent, he is a true language talent." And that's just one of his talents... "So, have a good flight, Joyce, and give the sheik my regards. Tell him I'm awfully sorry I couldn't come... myself this time." She cleared her voice. "Bye, Joyce."

"Bye." Joyce hung up.

Dawn entered the room, looking at her mother skeptically. "What's going on?"

"We're delivering the Galatea tomorrow," Joyce announced. "You get to meet a real sheik!"
Dawn didn't look too enthusiastic. "A real sheik, huh? He's probably old, fat and really ugly."

*

Buffy caught herself drowning in Spike's blue eyes when he broke the kiss. Then the reality of the situation caught up with her. "Oh God," she whispered, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do this, you're thinking of Kendra, I mean, you love Kendra, and..."

"I love every single one of you girls;" Spike said softly, "Every one in their unique way touches my heart. But, Buffy... you're the only one who has ever touched my soul." From the expression of his eyes, Buffy knew he meant it.

He reached out to the sides of her face with his hands.

"What do you think you're doing?" Buffy asked with a pounding heart.

"Seizing the day,"

He held her close and kissed her.
*

For a moment, Willow drank the sight of Tara spread on the bed, trembling and ready for her, then she brought her face down between Tara's legs. She breathed softly against her mound, causing a pleasant shiver to run through Tara. Willow ran her tongue over her nether lips, circling her clit, feeling her, tasting her, revelling in Tara's shallow breaths and small cries.

Then her tongue darted forward, exploring her.

Tara bucked her hips against Willow's face when her ecstasy became too much to take. She felt like she was floating in the air above the bed when she came, her world dissolving into soft music and fireworks. Willow watched her with a dreamy expression. Tara had never been more beautiful.

As soon as her trembling subsided, they began to undress each other, sharing admiring, loving glances, caressing each other with their eyes as well as their hands, worshipping every curve. Occasionally, Tara would lean in to kiss Willow, and their tongues duelled, every kiss hot with passion and fervent love vows. Willow realized that Tara did things with her hands that made her want to weep with bliss. Her heart was a living beat, and now it had a reason for beating: her beautiful goddess, her lover.

After a while, their caresses became more demanding, their kisses more passionate, they teased, licked, and rubbed each other until they tumbled over the edge, over and over, together, carried away, in the grip of the most powerful orgasms of their lives.

Willow collapsed in Tara's arms with a sigh, gently stroking her breasts. "Have I told you I love you?"

Tara blushed adorably. "Not in words, but I think I got the gist."

"Do you love me?"

Tara took her hand and kissed it. "Always have and always will." She ran her fingers through Willow's red hair.

Willow closed her eyes, ready to drift off to sleep in Tara's arms. There was a low shuffling of feet in the distance.

Tara, still basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, heard it as well. "You locked the door, didn't you, honey?" she asked absently.

Suddenly Willow was wide-awake. "I thought you had!"

They stared at each other, wide-eyed. There were steps in the corridor. And those steps were approaching.

*

Buffy's skin was hot, and not just with the heat outside. Her senses were on overload, her lips slightly parted, swollen with their kisses. Only when Spike began to open the top button of her dress did it register with her that this might be the big moment, after all. She wanted his heart, his soul, his body, all of him, but still she was reluctant to cross that line. Part of him wanted her for her resistance, was in for the hunt, not the prize. Buffy simply could not picture herself sitting in the harem with the others, waiting for the day to pass; the hope that he would call her in for a few hours of ephemeral pleasure the centre of her life. It was not what she wanted.

Spike sensed her hesitation and sought her eyes, silently asking her permission to proceed.
Buffy was at a complete loss what to do.

Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it. Wait a minute. This was not her heartbeat.
There was a knock at the door.

Spike closed his eyes. Not now.

Buffy giggled nervously.

Spike put a finger over her lips. "We're not here," he mouthed.

The knocking became louder.

"My lord!" a male voice shouted. "Your presence is required!"

The knocking was now so vehement Buffy feared they were going to break down the door.

"Bloody hell," he murmured, then kissed her briefly. "Sorry, luv, I have to answer."

Buffy pouted, but if she was completely honest, she was a little relieved too. The interruption would give her brain time to catch up with... other parts of her body. She quickly put her dress in order and reached for her veil.

Spike cursed under his breath. "If this isn't important..."

"It is, my lord, it is," the voice came, muffled behind the door.

Spike opened the door.

The guard, a tall, dark-haired guy with a strong built, bowed his head. "My apologies for the intrusion, my lord. There has been an offence at the Palace."

Buffy giggled in the background. "It's not me this time, I have an alibi!"

Spike ignored her. He had a bad feeling about this. "What happened?" he asked. Then he saw them. He froze.

Buffy came to the door to see what was the matter. Her hair was still tangled, her skin flushed, and she still felt the wetness between her thighs when she walked. "Spike, what..." Buffy stared at them and fell silent.

A little earlier...

The door flew open. Darla and Drusilla entered the room.

"What do we have here?" Darla said with a playful smile, but cold eyes.

Tara gasped and grabbed a sheet to cover her naked body. Willow reached for a blanket and hastily wrapped it around herself.

"Guards!" Drusilla shouted. "They're here."

Tara cast them a reproachful look while Willow shot daggers at them.

"We thought you got lost," Darla explained sarcastically. "We were worried! So we went looking for you. Seems like we've found more than we expected."

Drusilla cast Tara a dirty look. "I don't think she's a loss for the harem. She's a little chubby, don't you think?" With a satisfied smile, Drusilla ran a hand along her own thin figure.
Tara blushed and cast her eyes down.

Willow put a protective arm around her. "Leave her alone, bitch!"

Drusilla shook her head and made disapproving little sounds.

"It's okay, baby," Willow whispered at Tara.

Darla tossed them their veils. "Cover your faces."

The guards stepped into the bedroom a moment later.

Tara clung to Willow tightly.

"Let's separate the love-birds," Darla told the guards. "I'm curious how they are going to explain this to the sheik."

"Tara!" Willow shouted as the guards tore her lover from her arms, cuffing both of them.

"Please," she begged the guard, "She hasn't done anything wrong, it was all my doing, I forced her!"

"Willow, don't, you don't have to protect me," Tara said, tears running down her face. "Let her go, it was my idea!"

"Now, that's cute, isn't it, Dru?" Darla remarked.

"Leave her alone," Willow pleaded, casting Tara a longing look. "There's no need for both of us to go down! It's all my fault, I should be punished, not her!"

"Save your breath for the sheik," the guard said dryly.

"But..." Willow began.

"Stop doing that, Willow!" Tara said sharply. "I don't regret a thing, and if I had to make the same choice again, I would! I would die for you, Willow!"

For a moment, Willow was overwhelmed by that confession.

Darla smirked. "Well, you might actually get the chance to do that."

Then the guards dragged them out of bed, along endless corridors to the sheik's chambers.

*

"I don't see how that's different!" Buffy insisted. "You didn't punish me for what I did!"

Spike shook his head. "Buffy, you only touched yourself, and you hadn't even been here for a week. That is the difference! Bahramaj and Tara knew exactly what they were doing."

"Her name is Willow!" Buffy yelled. She knew he was calling Willow by her Arabic name to dissociate himself from his feelings towards her.

"They knew the law, they broke it, they got caught, end of story! Buffy, don't make this harder than it already is."

Buffy felt extremely guilty for encouraging Tara to confess her love for Willow. She was determined to rectify her mistake. "They are in love. Don't you see that?"

"Of course I do," Spike admitted. "But I'm afraid that's beside the point. Technically, they each laid claim on my..." He broke off, seeing the fury in Buffy's eyes.

"On your property," Buffy spat out the sentence. "That's so not fair."

"That's life," Spike told her.

"But... Willow and Tara... they're down there... in the dungeons... in dark cells... alone... afraid..." She began to sound really desperate. "It's all my fault, I encouraged them to confess their feelings! If you have to punish someone, send me to the dungeons!"

Spike felt his own emotions surging up inside him as Buffy conjured up the images of the suffering women under arrest in the dungeons of the palace. "Don't you know this is hard for me, too?" He touched her face. "But if I crumble under the pressure, I'll be in mortal danger. When people think a sheik is weak, they crawl out of the woodworks and try to seize power. Power is usually seized by murder. Is that what you want? Do you want me to lay down my own life? And what about my son? What about Khari? What will become of him if I'm not here to protect him? There's a lot of people in this country who are just waiting for me to make a mistake, and they won't hesitate to remove any obstacle standing in their way. Khari's my only heir. If I die, he dies. Buffy, I don't want to act this way. But I have a responsibility here."

Buffy looked at him pleadingly. "But... Willow and Tara?" With tears in her eyes, she fell down on her knees.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Buffy, don't..."

"You want me to beg? Alright, I'm begging. Please. Please, take back their death sentence!"

"Buffy!" he said sharply, pulling her to her feet. "Stop demeaning yourself. I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do. It's capital punishment, for both of them. It has to be. I cannot set them free."

She stared at him in disbelief. "How can you be so cold?" she whispered. "You can't fool me, Spike, I've seen your other side, I know you care for every single one of us!"

Spike kept his face even, his expression like a mask. Nothing in his eyes betrayed how horrible he felt. As much as he wished that this was not happening, that it was nothing more than a particularly vivid nightmare, he could not afford to help Willow and Tara. It tore him up inside to know he was signing their death sentences and, in addition, ruining everything that could have been between himself and Buffy, but he knew the power of Sheik Khari Ahani was fragile if Spike afforded the luxury of too much emotion.

It had all worked so well.

Until Buffy had walked through that door and tried to play his conscience, with her angel eyes and innocent smile. With each passing day, she made him care less about his power, about his duties. He was ready to introduce amnesty for Willow and Tara just to make Buffy happy. He was ready to build his world around her, to make his favourite his one and only and deny every other woman for her sake. If his father could see him now, what a pathetic shadow of himself his son was... It had to stop. And if he had to make Buffy hate him to make it stop, that could not be helped.

"Yeah. You know everything, Buffy, don't you?"

Buffy shrank back from him. "Your crying about Kendra and the baby, you can't tell me that was all an act?"

"It worked, didn't it?" he replied scornfully.

Buffy shook her head in despair. "And I thought we had a connection."

"Why, because you're thinking of me when you're getting yourself off at night?"

Her eyes filled with tears. "How can you say that?" She straightened her shoulders. "God, I almost... You're such a monster."

She rushed out, slamming the door.

Spike closed his eyes to hold back his own tears.

His little son's toy pig glared at him reproachfully.

"What the hell are you looking at?" he said accusingly. Then his eyes widened. The toy pig. He had completely forgotten about it. He looked at it for a whole minute. Of course! Maybe there was something he could do after all.


TBC...