Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Rules for Challenges

We Who Are About to Die Salute You!

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

This story is No. 3 in the series "Back in the SPQR.". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: A Roman Xover. After being killed by the Master, Buffy wakes up more than 2000 years earlier. Forced to fight in the arena as a gladiatrix she becomes the unwitting pawn in a game of life and death; gratuitous sex and violence ensue!

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Buffy-Centered(Recent Donor)DaveTurnerFR182279,408716232,46123 Oct 114 Dec 11Yes

Chapter One

Morituri te salutamus.
*We who are about to die salute you.*
By Dave Turner.

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the films or TV programmes used in this multiple xover fic. Neither do I claim authorship of any scripted words that you may find herein. I write these stories for fun not profit.

Crossover: Multiple crossovers: Rome (TV series). Spartacus (Film). Spartacus: Blood and Sand (TV series). Gladiator (Film).

Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar; Written in glorious English-English which is different to American-English.

Timeline: This fic is number three in my loosely connected ‘Back in the SPQR’ series and other BtVS characters are likely to appear as the story progresses.

Words: Too many to shake a stick at!

Warnings: To paraphrase Monty Python; there’ll be blood caked on the walls and flesh flying out the windows incommoding the passers-by with this one. Gratuitous sex and violence plus strong language. You have been warned!

Summary: A Roman Xover. After being killed by the Master, Buffy wakes up more than 2000 years earlier. Forced to fight in the arena as a gladiatrix she becomes the unwitting pawn in a game of life and death; gratuitous sex and violence ensue!


Authors Notes and list of characters appear at the end of this chapter.



Morituri te salutamus.
*We who are about to die salute you.*

The Prologue.

Sunnydale, 2nd June, 1997.

Looking around the ill lit cavern, Angel spotted Buffy lying face down in a pool of dirty water, her hair was wet and lank; her virginal, white, prom dress was stained with mud and blood. Scrambling down the uneven stone steps into the main chamber of the cave he rushed over to where she lay and pulled her from the water. Turning her over onto her back he laid her gently on the floor. Only seconds behind him, Xander appeared at the top of the stairs, taking in the scene, he watched as Angel held his ear to Buffy’s mouth trying to hear her breathing. Hearing no sound the vampire turned to look up at Xander.

“She's dead!” The words caught in Angel’s throat choking off anything else he might want to say.

Staring down at the couple, Xander swallowed hard. There was something at the back of his mind that he should be remembering right now; something from when he’d learned to swim years ago. Crossing the last few feet to where Buffy lay, Xander knelt down next to the girl he loved and the vampire he hated.

“No!” Xander shook his head vehemently, he refused to accept this reality, “She's not dead.”

He simply wouldn’t allow it, he had so much more that he wanted to tell her.

“But she’s not breathing,” Angel cried on the verge of tears.

“Yeah,” Xander placed his hand under the back of Buffy’s neck and lifted it upwards, letting her head fall back and her mouth open. “Look, if she’s just drowned, there's a chance…CPR!”

“You’ll have to do it, I have no breath,” Angel explained completely forgetting he had to breathe to be able to talk!

Laying his mouth over Buffy’s, Xander breathed three quick breaths into her lungs. Kneeling upright again he started to press on her breast bone with his hands trying to force her to start breathing for herself again.

“C'mon! C'mon!” Xander muttered as he continued to press on Buffy’s chest; after fifteen or so compressions he placed his mouth over her’s once more and breathed into her lungs again. “C'mon!” Xander cried as desperation started to creep into his voice, “Breathe damn-it! Breathe!”

Looking from Xander back down to Buffy’s pale face, Angel knew the truth and turned his head away in sorrow, he knew death when he saw it and although, Xander kept pumping on Buffy’s chest he knew it too, it was pointless, there was nothing either of them could do to save her.

“C'mon!” The tears fell from Xander’s eyes onto Buffy’s beautiful, still face; after a couple of more compressions Xander admitted defeat and sat back on his heels.

Looking at the vampire, Xander wiped the tears from his eyes, it was strange how things turned out, the two of them united in grief over the girl they both loved.

“It’s no good,” Xander spoke softly, “she’s cold, man.”


Chapter One.

Rome, over two thousand years earlier.

“What’s this?” Marius Arsenius held up his hand as he halted by the cage.

“Keep back!” Akakios of Argos pulled his friend away from the bars, “she’s like a wild animal!”

“What?” Marius peered through the bars; he turned to look at his friend in disbelief.

The girl lay on the floor of the cage, she was naked except for heavy chains around her neck, ankles and wrists; she was filthy and there were angry red welts lacing her back where she’d been beaten. Her body was very thin, her ribs clearly visible and her flaxen hair was lank and long covering her gaunt face.

“She hardly looks dangerous,” Marius observed as a smile of disbelief appeared on his lips.

“She killed one of my most experienced men outright and seriously injured three more,” Akakios whispered as if he feared waking the sleeping girl.

Looking at the girl afresh, Marius reconsidered; his own wife was quite capable of such feats so maybe…

“I’ve tried to starve and beat her into submission,” Akakios explained, “but it only seems to make her worse!”

“No!” Marius admonished, “Her sort you need to win with kindness not the lash. You don’t want to break her spirit,” he pointed out with a crafty smile, “think of the money you can make with her if you have her trained as a gladiatrix.”

“You think?” Akakios looked at Marius as if he’d grown another head, then very slowly a calculating look came over the slave trader’s face. “Your wife was a venetrix and some time gladiatrix was she not?”

“Indeed,” Marius replied proudly, “and a pretty pile of cash she made at it too!”

“Hmm,” Akakios rubbed his chin and eyed his friend shrewdly, “you may have something there.” He sighed deeply, “Anyway, she’s no use to me as she is, no one but a fool would want to fuck that hellcat!”

“Mark my words,” advised Marius, “have her trained, you won’t regret it.”

Walking on through the slave market, Marius found he couldn’t concentrate, the mere mention of his wife’s name had driven all thoughts of business from his mind. Only wanting to get back to his villa and make love to his beautiful Fidelia, he said his goodbyes to Akakios and headed for home. By the time he’d walked from the market place all thoughts of the blonde slave girl lying in her cage had been driven from his mind by thoughts of his own, lithe, dark haired beauty.


Later the same day.

“Welcome, Lentulus Batiatus!” Akakios stepped forward and helped the short rotund man from the back of his mule.

“Welcome indeed,” Lentulus eased his back and rubbed his numb posterior; he hated riding and hated riding in the heat of an Italian summer even more, “and thank-you.”

“May I offer you wine? Water?” Akakios asked.

“Water would be most acceptable my friend,” Lentulus’ eyes were already roving over the contents of the slave pens even as he took a mug of water from one of Akakios’ slaves. “Seven miles through this disastrous heat,” he complained, “and the cost of hiring an escort,” Lentulus sighed tiredly, “ruinous!” Turning slightly he walked towards the first of the slave pens with Akakios close behind him, “Even so, I warrant you have nothing fit to sell me.” Once again Lentulus sighed dramatically, “I’ve wasted both my time and money, come on,” he stopped to turn once again and look at Akakios, “tell me the truth.”

“Ha!” Akakios laughed at Lentulus’ gloomy visage, “I think I might have one or two you could be interested in.”

“What these!?” Lentulus gestured with his hand to the wild, hairy barbarians that occupied the first pen, “Carrion! The buzzards are late; they wouldn’t last five minutes in the arena, hardly worth the cost and effort of feeding them.”

Walking on together a few more steps Lentulus turned to glare at the youth who was following him with a sunshade and not doing a very good job of shielding him from the sun’s rays.

“Look,” Lentulus gestured up to the sky, “the sun’s there…” he raised an eyebrow and the youth got the message and moved the shade to cast a shadow over his employer.

“This one here’s not bad,” Akakios pointed to a large man in a cage by himself, “a Gaul.”

“Oh!” Lentulus threw up his hands in horror, “I don’t like Gauls, far too hairy. They’re not what the ladies of quality in the audience want to see, you see?”

Whatever his feelings about Gauls, Lentulus went over to the cage for a closer look, he turned to Akakios.

“Can you get him to kneel down and open his mouth?” Lentulus asked, “I need to see his teeth.”

Barking out a few words in Gaulish, Akakios ordered the slave to kneel and open his mouth; Lentulus peered into the Gaul’s mouth.

“Yes,” Lentulus muttered more to himself than to Akakios, “As the teeth go, so do the bones, this mouth is impermissible.” Lentulus moved on towards the next cage, “The fellow’s made of chalk.”

“Now this you might find interesting,” Akakios gestured to the girl who lay at the bottom of her cage dressed only in her chains.

“A girl?” Lentulus glanced at the girl before dismissing her from his mind, “I have no need for more girls’ particularly dirty, smelly ones that you’ve obviously had to beat to keep in order.”

“My dear Lentulus,” Akakios called stopping his friend before he could walk on too far, “this is no ordinary slave girl this is something special.”

“How so?” Lentulus turned and raised a disbelieving eyebrow at his friend before glancing back at the girl, “She doesn’t look very special to me…unless your idea of ‘special’ is having your balls ripped off by her in the middle of the night.”

He’d seen her sort before, some barbarian noble woman no doubt, who’d never come to terms with her new role as a slave. Some would always keep fighting until they eventually had to be killed. However, Lentulus stopped and listened carefully to Akakios’ tale of her capture just over the border north of the Alps.

“A friend and business partner of mine,” Akakios explained after coming to the end of his story, “suggested that I have her trained as a gladiatrix.”

“A what!” Lentulus threw up his hands in dismay, “A gladiatrix, no, no ,no I have no use for her and who’s this friend of yours to give you such bad advice?”

“Marius Arsenius,” Akakios announced noticing the way the look on Lentulus’ face changed from one of scorn to one of interest.

“Hmmmm, Marius Arsenius, eh?” Lentulus said slowly, “If I remember correctly he made his fortune in the slave business but gave it all up after he married that woman Fidelia what’s-her-name.”

“Venetrix,” Akakios supplied helpfully and watched the sestertius drop behind Lentulus’ eyes.

“Ah, yes!” Lentulus looked at the girl with renewed interest; gladiatrix were not unheard of, although he’d never actually seen one, “How many men did you say she killed?”

“One outright,” Akakios repeated, “and three others badly injured…and she was unarmed.”

“She was!?” Lentulus looked at Akakios sharply; he’d done business with the Greek for many years and had found him trustworthy and not prone to the over exaggeration or verbose, flowery speech that seemed to afflict his countrymen, Akakios was a novelty, a straight talking Greek.

Of course, Lentulus mused, if he did buy her and train her there’d be added expense, he wouldn’t just be able to put her in with the other gladiators. No, he smiled, if he did that she’d be dead or pregnant within a few weeks, either way she’d be useless to him. However, ideas ran fleet footed through his mind; if he made a few minor alterations to the living quarters…yes it just might work.

“How much?” Lentulus asked having come to a decision.

“Two hundred,” Akakios replied quickly.

“Two hundred!?” Lentulus exclaimed throwing up his hands in fake despair, “She’s never worth two-hundred, in that condition she’s not worth twenty-five!”

“Oh come on!” Akakios laughed, “feed her up a little, you’ll soon have her at fighting weight…hundred-and-fifty then?”

“It’ll take a week just to get her clean,” Lentulus wrinkled his nose at the smell that came from the girl, “and look how she’s been beaten…seventy-five.”

“Tell you what,” Akakios put his arm around Lentulus’ shoulder as he drew him away from the cage, “give me a hundred-and-twenty-five, I’ll throw in the Gaul and…” Akakios let his words hang for a moment, “I’ll pay for her, food and upkeep for a share in the profits.”

“Hmmm,” Lentulus hesitated and frowned for a moment, despite what he’d said earlier the Gaul was a good buy and the deal on the girl sounded…interesting.

“Imagine the novelty value,” Akakios’ words insinuated themselves into Lentulus’ mind, “you won’t regret it, just think of the tourist trade,” Akakios gestured off into the distance as if pointing to a future of fame and fortune for Lentulus, “when this works out you could have an entire school of gladiatrix, you could become world famous!”

“And rich,” Lentulus said quietly, “twenty-eighty to me!”

“Lentulus!” Akakios gave his friend a hurt look, “You wound me, however I’m not greedy, forty-sixty!” Came the counter offer.

“Thirty-seventy and you supply transport to take both slaves back to my school,” Lentulus looked at his new partner expectantly.

“Done!” Akakios suppressed the sigh of relief that almost escaped his throat; to be honest he’d not expected to sell the girl for so much, in fact he’d expected to have to sell her to a brothel-keeper for no more than a few bronze coins.


It was like being in some kind of living nightmare; Buffy remembered going to the Master’s lair, she remembered trying to shoot him with her crossbow. In her minds eye she saw how the vampire had snatched her bolt out of the air and broken it contemptuously between his fingers, she shivered in her fever induced dreams. He’d grabbed her as she’d tried to stake him and had looked deeply into her eyes. From that moment on, she knew she was dead. Almost welcoming the touch of his fangs on her neck she’d not even tried to resist as he’d sucked the life from her.

The next thing she remembered was lying half in and half out of a river. It was daylight and she had vague memories of blue sky, tall trees and mountains in the distance. Dragging herself weakly from the cold river water, Buffy had been unaware of the men who crept up behind her until they’d grabbed her by the arms and pulled her to her feet. Reacting instinctively she’d lashed out, hitting one man and freeing herself from the grip of the other. Looking down at the man she’d hit as the other ran off into the trees, Buffy realised she’d killed him. She’d not meant to do it, it’d been an accident, she was confused and scared and lost and…

Turning slightly she saw half a dozen men dressed in short tunics and sandals, like actors in some historical, action, adventure epic. However, actors, she felt sure didn’t carry clubs, whips and nets. The men rushed at her and tried to capture her, frantically Buffy fought back, she thought she might have killed another of their number but she couldn’t be sure. After being drained by the vampire (and dying) she felt weak and the men were armed, it was only a matter of time before one of them got in a lucky hit. Struck on the back of the head by a club, Buffy fell to her knees as they threw their net over her.

Wrapped up in the net, Buffy couldn’t defend herself as the men beat on her with their cudgels. Picking her up they carried her back to their encampment where they released her from the net. Again she tried to break free, but this time the men were ready for her and laid into her unmercifully, bludgeoning her as soon as she’d started to try and fight. All too soon she was beaten into submission and lost consciousness.

Waking to find her wrists and ankles in chains Buffy rested with her back to the wheel of a wagon and watched the men as they worked around the camp. The more she saw, the more she felt like she was trapped in some horrific, historical, adventure park, or more likely transported to a demon dimension. The first set of chains Buffy brook after only having to work on them for a few minutes. Stumbling to her feet she must have kicked something over. Whatever happened the men were alerted and soon fell on her with their clubs again. This time they tried to keep well away from her hands and feet as they beat her to the ground. Once they’d subdued her they placed heavier chains on her before tying her to the cart and beating her with whips.

Over the next few days, Buffy kept trying to escape and the men kept catching her and beating her, it was like some tragic, sadistic game. Then one day, she didn’t try to escape, she hurt all over and felt sick and weak, they were barely giving her enough food and water to keep her alive. Each night was the same; after they’d travelled all day the men would eat, then take her from the iron cage they’d put her in and beat her. By the time they got her and their other prisoners to the city, the girl in the cage was no longer the same Buffy Summers that had died in Sunnydale.


Having spent the night at Akakios’ villa in Rome, Lentulus started out for his school as soon as the city gates were opened hoping to miss the worst of the day’s heat. After two hours of pure torture sitting on the back of his particularly bony mule, Lentulus and his little convoy reached his school and home seven miles north of Rome. Dismounting with a heart felt sigh of relief; he walked stiff legged into his house after sending the wagons containing his purchases around to the training yard. On entering the cool darkness of his home, Lentulus was greeted by Varinia, his housekeeper and favourite slave woman.

“Varinia,” Lentulus smiled as he held the young woman’s face in his hand, “it is so good to be home. If I could only trust that fool Antoninus to pick stock I’d never go to Rome again,” he looked around for the man in question, “Where is he by the way?”

“Working on the monthly accounts, Dominus,” Varinia replied, “May I get you some water? Wine perhaps?”

“Just water, by dear,” Lentulus placed his arm around the young woman’s waist as they walked deeper into house.

Clapping her hands imperiously, Varinia sent serving girls to get Lentulus refreshments while she stayed close to her master ready to obey his every order.

“Send for Antoninus, I have a matter I need to discuss with him,” Lentulus sat down on a couch with a relieved sigh as Varinia dispatched yet another girl to go and find the Greek scribe.

Lying back on his coach, Lentulus drank his water and partook of the light meal, Varinia had sent for him. As he did so he told her of his purchase of the girl and his intention of training her as a gladiatrix.

“Of course,” Lentulus dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, “I’ll have to keep her separated from those randy goats of gladiators out there,” he gestured towards the training yard on the other side of the villa’s wall. “So, she’ll have to use the women’s ablutions and I think we might have to have a couple of extra gates put in, but no matter,” Lentulus sighed as he ran an appreciative eye over Varinia’s body, work before pleasure he told himself.

“Now, have we got a girl or woman who could work as this barbarian’s hand maid?” Lentulus asked as he looked up into Varinia’s beautiful face. “She’ll need to be quick witted and skilled, she’ll no doubt have to return this barbarian to health as well as civilise the wretch and teach her to talk like a proper human being.”

“I have someone in mind, Dominus,” Varinia nodded to herself after a moments thought, “the girl Eos.”

“Eos?” Lentulus frowned a little before he remembered the girl, “A little young isn’t she?”

“Fourteen, Dominus,” Varinia admitted, “but she speaks both Latin and Greek, she can write a little and count.” Varinia recalled the girl’s other virtues to mind, “She’s lively, quick to make friends and a skilled masseuse.”

“A real paragon,” Lentulus muttered, he looked up at Varinia and shrugged, “so be it if you think she’s suitable,” he sighed as he started to stand up. “Have her assigned to the gladiatrix, from now on her main duties will be the barbarian’s care. Now,” trying to stretch the kinks out of his back, Lentulus got up and placed his arm around Varinia’s shoulder, “take me to Antoninus, once I’ve given him his instructions you can repair the damage done to me by that sadistic mule!”


Later that evening, Lentulus stood outside of the cell that held the would be, gladiatrix. He frowned a little as he looked down to where she lay motionless on the narrow cot. He saw that someone had removed her chains and had made an attempt at cleaning her up a little. Varinia had told him the girl had a fever, he hoped it wasn’t anything more serious than a reaction to all the beatings and harsh treatment she’d received. However, he was going to keep his distance just in case it was something more serious.

The cell occupied by the girl was one of the last two at the end of the barrack block, behind him was a double gate leading to the female slave’s quarters, all that needed to be done to make the girl secure was to place a gate between her cell and the cells occupied by the gladiators. Antoninus was having that work done tomorrow, until then a guard could be put on the girl’s door. He suspected that not even one of his guards would be stupid enough to sneak into the girl’s cell and fuck her if she had a fever. Turning his head away from the gladiatrix, Lentulus saw Varinia approach with a young slave girl.

“This is Eos, Dominus,” Varinia introduced the girl.

Looking down at the girl, Lentulus recognised her. Yes, he remember her now, he’d bought her about six months ago and he vaguely remembered seeing her at work around house. She was pretty enough in a country girl sort of way, long, straight, brown hair surrounding a heart shaped face; her best feature were her beautiful blue eyes.

“So,” Lentulus completed his quick inspection of the girl, “you’re Eos, eh?”

“Yes, Dominus,” Eos kept her eyes firmly on the floor as she spoke to her master.

“Well, from now on you’re task will be the care of…of…” Lentulus gestured helplessly at girl in the cell, “Does anyone know what her name is?” When neither Varinia or Eos answered he supposed no one did, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to find out or think of one,” he looked down at Eos, “that can be one of your first tasks,” he nodded his head slowly, “think of a name for her.” Lentulus was getting tired; it was almost time for his dinner. “In the mean time,” he looked down at Eos, “get her cleaned up, dress her wounds and give her a good plucking she’s disgustingly hairy.”

“Yes, Dominus,” Eos replied to her master’s retreating back.


Authors note; This is not an essay on the late Roman Republic and the historical timeline has been left deliberately vague. I’ve also altered Roman society somewhat to fit in with people’s preconceived ideas and the plot! The descriptions of the arena have more to do with the later Imperial period than the late Republican one. Also I’m not a Latin scholar and to be honest I’ve made a lot of the Latin words up; they are actual Latin words I’m just not 100% sure I’m using them correctly! After all this is a fanfic story and not an academic work.

I hope you enjoy it and read it through to the end.


List of Characters.

Buffitrix/Trix (aka Buffy Summers); a gladiatrix.
Eos; a Greek slave girl owned by Lentulus, Buffitrix’s best friend.

Lentulus Batiatus; Buffitix’s owner and Dominus of the House of Batiatus.
Sempronius; Primus Exercitor/Head Coach.
Hector; Secundus Exercitor/Assistant coach.
Antoninus; Lentulus’ Greek scribe.
Varinia; A slave woman belonging to Lentulus.

Gladiators belonging to Lentulus Batiatus.
Spartacus - An enemy of Buffitrix.
Crixus - A gladiator.
Marcellus - Another enemy of Buffitrix.
David - A Jewish Gladiator (already).
Draba - A friend of Buffitrix.
Ramon.-Spanish Gladiator and friend of Buffitrix.
Gannicus - Another Gladiator.
Dionysius - Yet another gladiator
Caius - A gladiator, Buffitrix’s boyfriend.
Laelius - Not another gladiator?
Ariovistix - A Gaulish gladiator with an unusually small penis, an enemy of Buffitrix.
Bodvoc - Another Gaulish gladiator who isn’t bothered by Buffitrix one way or the other.

Senator Marcus Licinius Crassus; Invigilator (an early form of watcher).
Aulus; a trusted slave of Crassus.

Claudia Marius; Invigilator (an early form of watcher) and assassin.
Helena; Claudia Marius’ trusted slave.
Vanora; Slave girl belonging to Claudia Marius.

Tribune Marcus Publius Glabrus; officer commanding the Peculiaris Extraordinarii.
Centurion Quintus Erebus; Centurion of the Primus Century of the Peculiaris Extraordinarii.

Marius Arsenius; A rich businessman and trader.
Fidelia Arsenius (aka Faith Lehane); Ex-Gladiatrix and Venetrix, wife of Marius Arsenius.
Marius the Younger; Faith’s eldest son.
Fidelia the Younger; Faith’s eldest daughter, sometimes called Fidie.
Octavian; Twin brother to Octavia.
Octavia; Twin sister to Octavian.
Niobe; Faith’s youngest daughter.
Sabia; Nurse to Faith’s children.
Solonius; The Arsenius family butler.
Licinia; Faith’s Lady’s Maid.
Sextus Ennius; Captain of the Arsenius household guard.

Akakios of Argos; a Greek slave trader and friend of Marius Arsenius.

Octavian Caesar; Dictator/First Citizen of Rome.

Titus Pullo; Captain of the Aventine Collegium.
Shani (aka Willow Rosenberg); A witch, Titus Pullo’s wife and friend of Fidelia.
Lucius; Willow’s son with Lucius Vorenus.
Titus; Willow’s son with Pullo.
Zofiya; Willow’s daughter with Pullo.
Aeneas; Pullo’s son with Queen Cleopatra, Willow’s step-son.
Vorena the Elder; a Priestess. Lucius Vorenus’ elder daughter.
Vorena the Younger; Lucius Vorenus’ younger daughter.
Drusilla (not a vampire); slave girl belonging to Shani.

Posca; A scribe/aide working for Octavian Caesar
Jocasta; Posca’s young and attractive wife, acquaintance of Shani.

Villanus; a footpad, sometimes in the pay of Crassus.
Odius; a smelly footpad, sometimes in the pay of Crassus.

Senna the Soothsayer; a soothsayer and witch sometimes in the pay of Crassus.

Next Chapter
StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking