Hamunaptra hid a dark secret, which the Medjai had guarded for centuries, determined to keep it buried. Deep below the sand something dark lay waiting. It had slept in a waking nightmare filled with unending pain, hate and rage, yearning for vengeance. A dark power ran across the desert sands. It called to the beast, disturbing its eternal resting place.
The Beast was once a man, a powerful one who men had feared and women had wanted. His heart belonged to only one though - Ancksunamun. They loved in secret, breaking not just rules, but laws, as she belonged to the Pharaoh himself. She killed herself for their love. His promise to bring her back the last words she heard before death took her. These many years he'd lain there, losing more of his self each century, with their promise fueling his hunger for release and revenge.
Death scarabs rustled away, frightened. A skeletal head lifted, sniffing the air through blunted open holes. Thin tendons stretched across the face and body holding it together like macabre bandages. The head turned, showing the empty sockets, which eerily stared at the coffin's farthest corner. It was here. The power had sought him out, teasing him with its nearness. It whispered to him how the world was his for the taking. He simply had to walk across the desert sands upright, as a man once more and reclaim what others took from him.
The Beast, the man, took a deep, unneeded breath. His jaw dropped open, showing his pleasure as he chuckled. It echoed ominously. The scarabs scattered deeper into the pyramid, instinctively knowing trouble was coming. As they buried him alive, with the scarabs to feast on his skin, the priests swore his name would become a curse. Imohetep, the once great sorcerer was a myth, a curse to scare bad children. The beast embraced the dark power. He welcomed the promises, determined to remain in this tomb no longer.
Pulling his remaining powers around him, Imohetep pushed them out into the desert. They flew across the sands as the winds, picked them up, carrying them toward their intended targets. The dark power receded. Its work here was complete, and it had many other worlds to visit.
Ardeth Bay lay Buffy down on the pallet. The tribe Elders waited outside, impatient to learn about the stranger. A healer knelt beside the unconscious girl, wiping her face with a cooling cam el milk extract.
He spoke to her in their native tongue. "How is she?"
The healer wiped the sand and sweat from the small face, taking in the delicate features. Her hands felt the cheeks then the forehead. She moved the dark robes to check for any injuries. Her mouth opened to answer him when the patient sat up in bed, wide-eyed and unseeing, screaming like the Hounds of Hell were after her.
Ardeth Bay stepped forward to wake her gently when she swung at him. The punch sent him flying backward, where he landed in a graceless heap. He hadn't expected the hit, or the power behind it. Standing up with as much dignity as he could muster, he again advanced toward the woman caught in a nightmare. His cultured voice started low and gentle, the same way he spoke to Horus. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're dreaming and need to wake up. I only want to help you. Do you understand? Can you hear me?" He slowly inched his way closer, when he was close enough, he went down on his knees crawling forward as his voice became louder. "That's right. Shush. Whatever you saw, it can't hurt you here. We'll help, I promise." He put his hand out to touch her arm. When she didn't pull away, his arm slipped around to her back, cradling her against him. An old lullaby came to him and started to hum it under his breath.
It calmed Buffy, allowing her to breath normally. Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind. The first vision quest had taken a lot out of her. Her fainting violet routine gave was proof. She didn't feel like she had control over her body anymore, if she ever had. Her head had started clearing and her eyes almost opened as they approached the camp. She had caught a glance of dark tents when an ominous feeling overtook her, throwing her back into the hated darkness. This time was different. It wasn't a Slayer Dream. She felt an evil stronger than any she had ever faced. It tried to pull her under its sway. The Slayer shoved her way free from evil's hold.
"Are you feeling better?"
A deep, accented voice startled her from her memories. She leaned back for a better view, taking in the handsome face she last remembered seeing atop a black horse. Reluctantly, she moved away from the warm comfort of his arms, putting distance between them. Her heartbeat had returned to its normal rate, allowing her to take in her other surroundings. The camp's sound drifted in with the Elder's whispers. It reminded her of who had sent her here.
"Who are you, and where am I at?" Her voice sounded strained even to her own ears.
"I am Ardeth Bay, the leader of the Medjai. After you fainted, I brought you to our healer. Moments ago, you started screaming and I tried to wake you. Are you all right, Miss? I do not know your name," he answered.
Buffy brushed a hand through her hair, taking in his words while she tried not to allow his dark eyes to affect her. "My name is Buffy Summers. Thanks for bringing me here, I guess. I'm not some sort of slave am I?"
His lips tilted up into a half-smile, showing a flash of dimples. "No, you're an honored guest; a gift from the desert is always welcome to stay for as long as they so wish." He bowed his head in welcome.
Wary green eyes searched his face, and then turned to the still kneeling woman, who she guessed was the healer. She took in the large tent with its opulent rugs and pillows, wondering whose tent he had brought her to. Her eyes returned to his face, and although there was no doubt this man was a warrior, she knew he wouldn't hurt her. Honor, truth and faith blazed from his eyes' dark depths, giving her a glimpse of Ardeth Bay's true self. She wondered if her journey would allow her to learn what lay underneath the warrior and leader exterior. Would she get to know the man himself and would she like him, would he like her? She lowered her lids to hide her wayward thoughts, hoping they hadn't shown on her face. Her hands reached out to pull the robes around her before she pushed straight up into a standing position.
"A gift, huh? Are the old men waiting outside, going to unwrap me?" Her eyebrow rose in question as her hand slid down to lay on her sword.
The normally stoic warrior found his mind creating a graphic picture, which took him by surprise. He didn't understand what it was about this strange woman that had him reacting like an adolescent. "Those are the Elders. They're waiting to speak with you, if you agree, of course?" His dark eyes almost pleaded with her, although he never said a word. She nodded her consent, holding his gaze as he called to the Elders. "Come inside, she knows you're there and distrusts your purpose."
The tent's flap opened, allowing several men of various ages to enter. They carried the same blue tattoos on their face and hands, which time had faded, but the markings were clear enough to read against the dark, bronze skin. Each man bore an added tattoo beneath his lower lip. It resembled a sideways, twisted 'E'. The Elders filed inside, remaining close to the exit, with several feet between them and the visitor. Their dark eyes bore into hers, whether to ward her off or trap her mind.
"Buffy Summers," he said formally, bowing his head toward her, "these are our tribal Elders. Between them, they hold the history, customs and law used by the Medjai for over a thousand years."
As always, she didn't try to remember the names he put with the Elder's faces. It wouldn't matter; she'd say it wrong anyway. The only one she paid attention to was the leader. Go straight to the top, know who holds the power, whether their names were pronounceable or not. She noted with irony how Ardeth Bay was pointing to the smallest man in the group. She listened to him talk about the man's many accomplishments.
"I give you our most honored and esteemed Head Elder, Akil-Barir." Ardeth Bay respectfully bowed his head to the small man.
She watched her handsome rescuer perform an intricate hand movement, before stepping back to stand midway between her and the Elders. The Watcher Council came to mind as the Elders stared at her. A wary light flickered in her eyes before she blinked it from sight. Straightening her shoulders, she took a step forward, moving out from Ardeth Bay's protection. She continued until she stood center ground before the Elders. Large hazel eyes weighed each man much the way she did the creatures of the night. She searched deep into their eyes, grasping for their very souls. While she scrutinized each wrinkle, scar, muscle and twitch, the silence grew deafening.
Buffy knew this quest or punishment, whatever it was, depended on her choosing the right people to trust. She had no chance at destroying the evil she'd seen in the visions alone. Tall, dark and studly had possibilities, which his looks had nothing to do with, although, it didn't hurt to find help so easy on the eyes.
Closing her eyes, she pulled deeply on her Slayer senses. The Slayer felt the Warrior's spirit behind them. It burned brightly with his strong belief in his duty above all else. Spirit eyes turned to the Elders. Hackles went up from ghost memories of days long past. Buffy's spirit soothed the Slayer. Their bond was a living, breathing entity, two parts creating one being. When Buffy accepted the First Slayer's spirit and power during the spell, it had awakened her spirit mind. She accepted her Slayer side, becoming a complete person. Every moment, every breath she'd taken since the spell had ended, was a new Buffy, a new Slayer. She had developed in a way no other Slayer ever had, and she hadn't even realized it. Stranger still, neither had her close friends, or even her Watcher. It showed though, oh yes, in every flowing move, every skillful kill and just as it was about to show, as each side came together to use their strengths to their best advantage.
Her eyes opened, immediately going to a small man withered from age. His gnarled hand held a staff to keep his body steady on the shifting sands. Age had ravaged his body; it clearly hadn't affected his mind, wisdom and a strong will, stared back at her. A battle of wills started as they faced off while the others watched. Akil-Barir passed the leadership to Ardeth Bay when his father fell in battle. His grandson had taken on the responsibility, easily rising above his ancestors before him. The old man admitted he felt jealous at times, seeing the handsome youth overshadow his past victories, but those were just the foolish twinges of old age. Here before him stood a warrior unlike any he had ever seen. She needed no marks on her body to tell him that. It showed clearly in her eyes. His only question was did they fight for the same goal?
She felt the old man assessing her strengths, searching for her weaknesses, asking if she were friend or foe. A laugh almost escaped her lips, since her own thoughts ran along the same lines. She knew she was here for a purpose. It didn't mean she was going to let another group of old men tell her what to do. They drew their lines in the sand; let the negotiations begin.
"Why are you alone in the desert? Where are your people? What business do you have in the Valley of the Dead?" Akil-Barir hoisted the first shot over the Slayer's bow, waiting to see how she would react.
Ardeth Bay knew his grandfather didn't trust outsiders. But, wasn't he the one warning him to search for stranger this morning. He split his glance over to this stranger to find her unaffected by the outburst. Returning to his neutral stance, he waited to see what would happen next.
The evil flew across the desert, lifted by the hot Sahara winds, carrying it to those it knew desired, lusted, yearned for what was beyond their reach, be it glory, power, pleasure, treasure or respect. It whispered, taunted, teased and seduced into those minds and ears. Until, it hooked the bait and set the trap.
A hand slipped into a pocket, stealing a map and key from a man intended for the gallows. The greedy traitor, sworn never to reveal the Valley of the Dead’s whereabouts, overheard foolish men with too much money and no respect for the country they’re visiting. An inquisitive mind knocked over a book in a library in Cairo. The pages flew open landing on a picture of Pharaoh Seti the First. The woman couldn't stop staring at the man, feeling like she had seen his face somewhere before.
Buffy took in a deep, slow breath, and then smiled sweetly at Akil-Barir. "Taking a walkabout. At home. Its none of yours."
Ardeth Bay thought he heard his grandfather growl. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or join him. This woman was unlike any he had ever met. She was equal parts child, woman and warrior. It would certainly be entertaining if she stayed with them.
"Do not be insolent, child," the elder snapped at her.
"I'll stop being insolent when you stop being rude." Her chin came up and her arms crossed.
Akil-Barir stared at her with piercing black eyes. A deep scowl mark divided his forehead. Suddenly, a deep chuckle erupted from his throat. "Very well, little warrior, what brings you to our desert?"
A pale brow rose at the phrasing, but she started talking anyway. "I'm not sure how I got here. What I do know is there's something out there." She pointed toward Hamunaptra. "Its starting to wake up, and when it does, I plan to stopping it."
The tent went deathly silent, every eye followed the small finger, pointing in a straight line to the Beast's domain. Prayers and curses filled the air. The wind blew the entrance open, sending a chill down Buffy's spine. Her eyes searched the area unable to dispel the feeling someone or something was watching her. She jumped backward when Horus burst through the gap. The falcon startled her and its owner even more by flying straight at her. Buffy stepped back; a hand went up instinctively, which suited Horus' purposes. The stalwart bird landed on the delicate forearm and caught the Slayer's eyes within its own amber ones. Buffy froze, falling into a trance where her feathered friend's message came through loud and clear.
Rain misted down in a gentle cloud of golden sand. She watched the wind pick up, throwing the desert's treasure away with a giant's gusto as the hateful secret crept back out to the open. A large shadow started moving against the wind, dancing, expanding until it was an undulating mass of black, stretching across the entire desert. Scarabs; the sand for as far as the eye could see, had marching, pinching, scarabs covering it. Buffy stepped back, falling and the black bugs fell on her, their mouths wide and snapping. Seconds later, bare, white bones lay beneath the blazing desert heat.
A high, loud scream, coming from the Elders' tent did not bode well for the Medjai. Several warriors noted their leader’s return from the desert, carrying a small body. The seers whispered about the dark returning. An uneasy sensation settled over the encampment as the scream went silent. Children quickly gathered their toys at their mother's bidding. The years the Medjai had watched and waited to prevent others from disturbing the beast's resting place was about to be tested.
Giles ran into Buffy's room when he heard her scream. No doubt, the others would join after soon; he wanted to savor these lone moments while he could. He knew something was happening to Buffy in whatever world the Powers had decided to send her. Long, elegant fingers brushed the sweat, soaked hair from her brow. "Do what you know is right, dear girl, let your warrior's heart lead you," he whispered softly.
Willow and Xander stomped up the steps, huffing and puffing, trying to catch their breath. The indomitable, original Scooby pair stepped forward to join the Watcher at their friend's bedside. Tara stepped up behind them, silently adding her support, much the way she always did, yet worlds different now. Namely, she wore her Medjai tattoos proudly, finding the glamour unnecessary. A blatant difference true, but not what set her apart from the girl the others had known as Tara McClay. It was the way she carried herself. Tara held her head high and looked each person in the eye as they spoke. Previously, she had kept her head, and thus her attention, mostly at ground level. The self-assured, no-nonsense woman that replaced the shy Wiccan was the most unsettling part of the forgiveness process for Willow.
Xander had no such qualms. She lied and her lie caused Buffy harm then she was bad, end of story. He hated Tara with a never-ending passion. End of Story. Having lied in his own nonstellar past didn't matter to him. That was then, and this was now. Buffy might die and he blamed Tara. A black and white world, worked for him. Xander liked them when he could live there, and they didn't happen often, so he was staying for as long as he could. He reckoned it would last as long as Buffy stayed in the Land of Nod, afterward; all bets were off. If he thought about it real hard, Army Guy and Hyena Spirit were swimming around in him somewhere, he didn't think about it often. Just at times like this, just in case. If the worst happened, and his bestest bud, his hero, didn't wake up, he was gonna unwrap a large can of whoop ass on this chick with Marks A Lot gone wrong on her face.
He went to the other side of Buffy's bed, picked up her hand and started talking to her. "What you screaming about, Buff? Did the Cheese Man come see you again? What's up with that guy? Can't we get a good Ad guy in our nightmares, like the rep for Twinkies?"
Giles smiled at the young man's lighthearted banter, even as he watched their silent guardian take her place. Willow joined Xander, her pale hands reaching forward to trace over the amber encrusted ones of her friend. She bit back a harsh cry when she saw that more of the golden liquid had amassed since they had last checked.
"Hey, Buffy, I miss you. Hurry up and finish what you're doing so you can come home. I talked to Kenny down at the video store and they're supposed to get a new shipment of movies. We just need you then it’s munchies and dancing camels." A watered-down laugh escaped her lips when the news didn't get the hoped-for response from the blonde Slayer. The witch's large tear laden eyes lifted to search for the Watcher, instinctively looking to him for the solace she sought.
Giles knew Willow needed him to reassure her that Buffy would survive this and return to them. He understood this. Yet, he found himself without the added emotional strength needed to provide Willow or anyone else one ounce of assurance, an assurance he wasn't sure he felt.