Epilog

From the LA Times

Well Known Artist Responds to Allegations of Art fraud

Santa Monica artist Dawn Summers responds to charges of attempted fraud brought by Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art. MMOMA purchased the unsigned work, simply titled- nude on a red sofa, at an auction in Prague this summer for a little over five hundred thousand pounds. While carbon dating of the canvas places the painting in the late 1800's, further evaluation, performed after the purchase, indicates the use of modern pigments. The issue of the paintings origin was further complicated by gallery documentation that substantiates the painting's existence as early as 1910. The painting was traced to Ms. Summers by the work of Heim Becker, a renown brush stroke expert.

Ms. Summers explains that the mix-up in dating probably occurred due to her purchase of the canvas at a rummage sale. She was less certain about the letters, which contain detailed descriptions, saying only that there must have been a similar painting in existence at that time, and that as far as she knows the letters themselves are not fraudulent. Ms. Summers reports that the completed canvas was given to the model, who at the time resided London. However, efforts to track down the illusive woman have failed. Ms. Summers denies any deliberate attempt on her part to defraud the museum, which purchased the work.

Ms. Summers is represented by the Kline Gallery of New York and will be hosting a one-woman show there later on this fall.

~Spike~

I wasn't much thrilled with her new apartment. The loft of the old warehouse had a spectacular view…of the other warehouses surrounding the wharf. "You know you didn't have to move out."

"What you don't like my apartment? I am hurt! You know if you stand right over there…I even have a view of the beach."

Dawn gestured toward the spot about three feet from the corner of the far window. I obligingly climbed on the edge of the bed and looked out the window. I could just make out a rough triangle of rocky shore and gray water. "I bet its real pretty in daylight, Nibblet."

"You haven't called me Nibblet in a long time.

"No…you're all grown up now. Grown up with a right vengeance," I repeated bitterly.

"Come on, Spike, admit it Dr. Lawrence was right the three of us were too enmeshed."

"But what if something happens? The world seems to try to end itself every fucking May."

"Well, it's not like I can't come back, almost as quick as you can make a phone call. She gestured to the paintings hung over the bed: pictures of Buffy's living room, my old crypt, and Xander's apartment.

"Besides, it was just awkward, you know, with you and me….and Buffy."

I nod slowly.

"But I am glad you and Buffy agreed to go to family counseling. Doctor Lawrence has been a big help in dealing with the whole master of my fate thing. So how are you and Buffy getting along?

"Didn't think Buffy would go for the group counseling scenario, but let me tell you it has really broadened her horizons. That mixed marriage group Doc runs, between demons and their significant others, has really loosened her up. 'Course I had to search Buffy for weapons the first couple times we went, but once Doc got that antiviolence spell up and running we've really been able to work on some issues…

"Ok, it's ready. I've tried to include all the details you gave me. When we go through the painting, it should still be light enough for us to see. I didn't want to leave it too late and risk missing her; so you be sure to keep yourself covered up."

I examine the painting critically looking for flaws in the St. Christopher's cemetery that I remembered. It was near perfect. "Do you know exactly were we will come out?"

"We should land in the shadow of that big crypt; that's what I used as a focus. Do you think we will find her?"

"Yeah, I know we'll be successful because it already happened for her." I answered. "Got the chloroform?"

"Check."

"Let's do it then."

I held my twelve year old sister in my arms for a moment longer before placing her gently on the front step. I looked back over my shoulder at Dawn, marveling once again at the resemblance between them.