Chapter 9: Negotiations
“No. No way. Absolutely not.” Mal crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the delegation facing him. Buffy and Simon sat on the opposite side of the table, facing Mal. They had decided they would stand more chance of persuading Mal if they presented a united front. Kaylee stood a little to the side, River and Willow with her. Spike leaned nonchalantly against the door frame, clearly on Buffy’s side.
Zoë and Jayne stood either side of Mal. They did not like the plan the passengers had concocted any better than Mal, but Zoë, at least was beginning to see that they were outnumbered. Kaylee had deserted and neither Inara nor Book was taking sides visibly. She knew that Mal would say that it was his ship, not a democracy, but she suspected that Buffy and co could overpower the remaining crew, if they so desired.
“I’m not asking anyone to risk their lives if they don’t want to,” Buffy said, undeterred by Mal’s refusal, “You can stay right here on Serenity if you choose to. But we need the ship to get us to where we want to go.”
“And how exactly are you planning to get in? Just stroll up to the door and ask nicely?”
Kaylee hid a smile of joy. Mal’s tone was sarcastic but the fact that he was even entering into discussion about it showed that he might yet be persuaded.
To everyone’s surprise, it was Book who answered.
“I think I might be able to help with that…”
----------------------------------------------------------------
It was agreed. After several hours of negotiations and planning. Willow, Kaylee and River had left some time before. Spike stood still in his place by the door.
“Jayne?” Mal enquired.
“What’s in it for me?” Jayne wanted to know. Buffy rolled her eyes. Jayne reminded her of Spike when he’d first been chipped. Still evil and helping for money. Spike before he’d fallen in love with her and started getting himself into all sorts of trouble, pain and torture for no more reward than to be in her presence without being staked, the occasional kind word or glance which she had declined to give.
“I daresay there are plenty of valuable things there for the taking,” Simon said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. He had not forgotten Jayne’s previous attempts to betray him and his sister. He wasn’t at all sure he wanted Jayne to come along with them this time, after what had happened before.
“If you aren’t interested, Jayne, you don’t have to come along.” Buffy said sharply, “This mission is important, for me and my world, and for River. I can’t afford to have it screwed up by people who don’t give a shit. I need strong fighters, people who will do the job properly. People like Spike.”
Spike’s heart swelled with pride when she said his name. Part of him thought it should rather be a source of shame that he was so easily pleased to be held up by the Slayer as a shining example of virtue, but he didn’t care. She’d thought of him.
“Spike?” Mal’s tone was surprised. Spike growled quietly and narrowed his eyes in the captain’s direction. “Last time you said…”
“That was different. I mentioned Spike’s…allergy. This time we’ll be going at night, so it won’t be a problem. We need him.”
We need him. It wasn’t ‘I need’. But it was the best he was going to get at the moment.
“Fine. So, you, me, Spike…”
“Me.” Zoë volunteered.
“Zoë…”
“And me,” Simon insisted.
“Look, doc….”
“No negotiation.”
“What about Willow, love?” Spike spoke for the first time, “Won’t you need the witch to find this magical source you’re looking for?” Buffy shook her head.
“I’ll know when I find it.”
“How?” Mal was curious.
“I’m the Slayer. It’s a Slayer artefact. It’s meant for me, I’ll know when I find it.”
“So,” Mal resumed, “Me, Buffy, Zoë, Spike, Simon. That’s five. Enough for this plan of yours?”
“Should be.”
“I don’t like this, you know.” Mal looked Buffy straight in the eyes.
“No-one’s forcing you to come along, Captain,” she replied, returning his look.
“Oh, I’m coming, you can count on that. You got a lot of guts, you know, girl.”
Buffy shrugged, “I don’t have a choice.”
Spike tore his eyes away from Buffy and the Captain when he heard a rustling noise at the other end of the room, looking up in time to see Inara exiting the room. Slipping out silently, he went after her. He doubted that Buffy, the Captain or the doctor noticed his absence.
He followed Inara as she glided down the corridors of the rust bucket that called itself a space ship. She did not hear him: Spike was well practised in silent pursuit, his time stalking Buffy as much help as his decades of pursuing the victims of his bloodlust across Europe.
He knocked softly on the door of Inara’s shuttle.
“Go away!” she called.
“No,” Spike said, “Let me in love.”
“Spike?” she questioned. Spike’s vampire hearing detected a sniff, and what was very probably the companion drying her eyes. She appeared at the door, calm and unruffled, any mortal would be hard pressed to identify anything wrong.
“What do you want?” she asked, only the barest hint of impatience.
“Thought you might like to….talk.”
“No, thank you.” She stepped back, but did not invite him in. Spike stood on the threshold of her apartment, unable to cross.
“Fine. See you around, pet.” He left.
Inara felt suddenly alone. The blonde young man unnerved her. He had an uncanny sensitivity and ability to read others’ feelings. She recalled what he had said about his own feelings for Buffy and felt a well of pity spring up in her heart. As a companion she was forbidden to love, but that did not mean she was insensitive to the emotion in others. Unless those others happened to be Mal. If she was honest with herself, for once, she would admit that Spike unnerved her precisely because he had fuelled her suspicions about Mal and his growing attachment to Buffy.
Not that there was any reason for this to disturb her, Inara told herself. She could not love Mal. Why should she be unhappy at him finding love elsewhere? She told herself that she was unhappy for Spike, the poor young man so clearly in love with Buffy. But that was not the reason at all.
There was another knock at the door of her shuttle.
“Spike?” Inara went to open the door and was taken aback to see not the blonde passenger, but Mal, a puzzled frown on his face.
“You were expecting someone else?” He enquired lightly.
“What do you want, Captain Reynolds?” Inara asked frostily, ignoring his question.
“I…” he seemed at a loss for an answer. “I wished to check that our detour for this mission of Buffy and Simon’s will not inconvenience you with regard to your appointments, Companion,” he said with mock formality, adding a sneering tone to his utterance of the word ‘appointments’.
“I will not be inconvenienced by the detour, I assure you. Although I am somewhat surprised by your eagerness to endanger the lives of the crew for what seems a very vaguely thought out plot to retrieve an unspecified object at the whim of a girl you have known less than a week.”
A spark entered Mal’s eyes at Inara’s mention of his acquaintance with Buffy.
“Ah, that’s what’s got you so riled up. You think I’m jumping to do Buffy’s bidding? Inara, are you jealous?”
“Jealous? You have some delusions about yourself, Captain Reynolds!” Inara retorted in her most disdainful tones, “I only wonder at the poor girl’s taste if there is anything of the sort going on. When she could have her young friend Spike for the asking.”
“I suppose you would prefer Spike?” Mal asked, jaw set. He didn’t know why he was even still here, provoking this argument. It was like poking at a sore tooth, painful yet irresistible. “It was his *company* you were expecting this evening? After such a short standing acquaintance…well, I don’t know why I’m surprised, you’re only doing your job, after all….”
Any semblance of animation fled Inara’s face after this; cold and lifeless as a statue, she said in her iciest voice:
“I’d like you to leave now, Captain.”
Closing the door, Inara slid to the floor, her head in her hands. She didn’t know how long she sat there, in despair and humiliation. She didn’t cry.
|
