Chapter 1: The Rescue

Disclaimer: Own nothing and no one used herein
Title: Desert Daughter
Author: Kate R.
Rating: Teen to Adult
Pairings: N/A but maybe Alex Dawn later
Summary: Hank took Dawn to Egypt and died, Dawn as rescued from their murdering guide by the Medjai and adopted as the King's daughter

Notes: I fudged the divorce a bit for this fic because I need Dawn young enough to be adopted Fully Medjai. It wasn't in High school for Buffy, it was before then. When Dawn was eight and she was 13. Joyce found out Hank was dead after Buffy burned the gym down. A year later which is why Ardeth could legally adopt Dawn. No one came in a year making her listed as an orphan or abandoned.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Her father had died in a sand storm. She'd watched him be suffocated because he wouldn't get down low like the guide had told him. Now the Guide had her, he kept her tied up telling her what a nice price she'd fetch at the slave market. She was scared and cold and lonely and she missed her mom and Buffy but Hank had said she was his. His to do with what he wanted and now the Guide was saying the same thing even though Hank had paid him.

Tonight, they were in a city of ruins and the Guide was mumbling about going looking for gold or something. She was tied up tight, her clothes were mostly gone, he said she'd be dressed properly for market and wouldn't need what was in her bag any more and he said they needed kindling anyhow. She was gagged, too, because she'd bitten his tongue when he tried to kiss her. He said she'd be tamed properly at the market. She didn't want to be tamed but she was so little and couldn't get loose.

He was walking towards her, having drunk his dinner, and he was reaching to undo his belt.

"Gonna break you in nice for your new owner," he told her in broken English. She tried to scramble away but she was tied so tightly she couldn't.

He reached for her pants, laughing, and had started opening his pants when all of the sudden, chaos broke out in their small camp. Horsemen rode in, a whole group of them, shouting in Arabic, she bet, and swinging swords. He fell off of her, scrambling away, trying avoid them, but soon found himself surrounded.

She stared as a man who was obviously the leader swung down off his horse and stalked towards the man. The look on his face was murderous as he moved like a huge dark shadow. The Guide fell on his ass, trying to scramble away, begging for mercy, she'd bet. She heard the word Sahib repeated over and over and she knew that meant 'master' or something like that. Still the man moved towards him, backing him into one of the walls as the leader guy's people had moved so he could be backed up.

"You touch a child? You 'dare' to touch a child after leading her father out here to die?" the man roared in English. She stared as understanding dawned. He had intended her father to die, intended to take her as a slave. But this man, this man who was obviously a leader, had come to save her.

"M-money, l-lord" he stammered in his English, "My family needed the m-money . . ."

"SILENCE!" He bellowed, "Never children you wretched thief!"

The man wet himself, she saw. And she saw a gleam come into the eyes of the leader.

"I will punish you for this by the Desert," he spoke, "Take him inside, remove his pants and place him where Scarabs wait. Make sure his manhood is out, meat for the carrion eaters. Make sure he cannot leave."

The men nodded and dragged the man inside, ignoring his pleas for mercy. Then, the leader turned to her. He knelt down, carefully, and took a knife from his belt. He cut her bonds in two quick slashes and then untied her gag. He rubbed circulation back into her wrists and ankles and then gave her some water to drink.

Once he had seen to her needs, he stepped back so she could get up. She did but she then threw herself into his arms and clung on, crying her heart out. He held her back, gently, stroking her hair and offering what little comfort he could.

"Shh," he soothed, "Shh, I will take care of you. I promise."

She looked up into his face and, although she thought others would find his tattoos scary, she didn't. To her, they were comforting and safe and had saved her life.

"O-okay," she whispered.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"D-Dawn," she whispered, "I'm D-Dawn S-summers."

"How old are you, Dawn?" he asked.

"E-eight," she whispered, "What's your name?"

"Ardeth," he told her, "My name is Ardeth Bey. Would you like to go to my people's camp and have a nice meal and a soft bed?"

"Please?" Dawn asked. He nodded and lifted her onto his horse before swinging up behind her.

"Imshi!" he called to his people as they came out of the building. Dawn didn't know how they stopped the man from leaving and she didn't care, just so long as he was gone. They all rode out and she, being so tired from her ordeal, just fell asleep against his chest. His heart beat and the sound of the horses' hooves were lulling and she knew he'd keep her safe.

He'd saved her, after all.