The Slayer of Verona.
By Dave Turner.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Buffyverse (Joss Wheedon/Mutant Enemy) or Romeo and Juliet (which I’d imagine is out of copyright by now,). I write these stories for fun not profit.
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer with William Shakespeare’s play, ‘Romeo and Juliet’. Also ‘Goldilocks and the Three Bears’ and just a touch of Blackadder II.
Spelling, Grammar and Punctuation; Written in glorious English-English. Mainly English idioms are used throughout this fic.
Timeline: BtVS S3 Graduation, Part One.
Words: Nine chapters of about 2500 words each.
Warnings: Violence and scenes of a sexual nature.
Summary: The story behind one of William Shakespeare’s best known plays. Join Faith as she plummets from the balcony of her apartment building in Sunnydale and lands in 16th century Verona.
Note; Words that appear in italics (if I got the tags right) are either Mr Shakespeare’s (slightly changed by me) or snatches from traditional songs.
The Slayer of Verona.
By Dave Turner.PROLOGUE.
Sitting at his writing desk Master Shakespeare arranged the tools of his trade; he placed his sharpened quills just so, his pot of ink thus. The sheaf of unmarked paper sat in front of him taunting him with its blankness. This could be the most important piece of writing he’d ever done; he’d been commissioned to write the play by Sir John Dee himself, the founder and leader of ‘Ye Watcher’s Council of Gentlemen’. So why couldn’t he put pen to paper?
These past few weeks there had been much argument amongst the council’s members as to whether the existence of vampires and other fiends from hell should be made common knowledge. It was for this purpose that Sir John had commissioned Will to write a play about a slayer and her adventures against the hellspawn.
Sitting back in his chair Will glanced out of the window to his right; there in the garden was Anne, his own potential slayer, taking instruction in the correct use of the quarterstaff from Henry Fairweather. Will smiled as he watched the girl take her stance and attack Henry with a flurry of blows that the old soldier deflected easily before tripping the girl onto the grass. Henry laughed and held out his hand to Anne to haul her to her feet. There was a blur of motion as Henry went flying over Anne’s recumbent form to land on the grass a little north of the girl’s head.
Laughing Will looked back at the blank sheets of paper that teased him so. He had heard the story that the slayer had told. He had the tale firmly fixed in his mind, it was a good story. In fact it was an excellent story, it had everything you could want in a play; action, adventure, mystery, comedy and romance. So why couldn’t he begin? Could it be that he was afraid he couldn’t do it justice? He remembered the way the slayer had recounted her tale, her dark eyes flashing in the firelight as her dark curls bounced about her face, and that strange accent of hers. How could he do justice to such story telling?
Sighing Will picked up a quill, dipped the nib in the ink, for a moment more his hand hesitated above the pristine sheet of paper. Then, bending to his task he started to write…In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
A pair of lovers make their life;
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
That would do for a start; he could polish it later, now on with the play…