3. Private Show
Title: Sarmatian Ladies
Rating: Pg-13 - R
Disclaimers: Joss owns Buffy & Co., Fuqua & Bruckheimer own Arthur & Co. I own the baby.
Spoilers: Buffy: s7, the movie King Arthur, and my story Protector of the Weak
Summary: Taxi-cab confessions, rude awakenings, mixed feelings, and moving
A/N: Ok, thanks for all the reviews - I’m really sorry I had to cut that chapter short. Well, my break was short and uneventful (unless breaking a toilet, drooling in a used bookstore at all the shiny happy books I couldn’t have, and family get-togethers that involve the quoting of most of Sixteen Candles
sounds like a fun time) Ok, there were definite high points. Anywho, I’m still not sure if Dawn will have to get all 25 knights or just the seven from the movie. As a side note, I watched the theater version of the movie and read the novel over break. Wow - I so hated Dag’s death in the book. It is very - guh. I actually threw the book across the room I was in after reading it (I of course scrambled back over to it so I wouldn’t lose the page.) Also, the Tristan/Illyria fic is up in Winter Tidings. It’s called Like Dancing, and yes I’m planning on putting all of my one-shot KA crossovers into a story together, of course as I’m planning on continuing two of them. . . SL comes first though.3. Private Show
The Immortal watched as his woman swayed to the pulsing music of the club. She was surrounded by a throng of admirers, each one of them as drawn to her vitality and spirit as he had been. After nearly three thousand years, he had found her once more. He’d been thwarted once before and that bastard would not take her from him again.
She had been off his radar for many years, buffered by the Hellmouth. Now that it was gone and she was no longer charged with the mission of protecting it, she was his once more. He felt the air shift around him. Sliding his gaze calmly to his right, he spoke quietly to the figure in the corner.
“She is beauty unleashed, no?” He murmured quietly, not fully drawing his gaze away from his woman.
“If you say so, my lord.” The woman replied, her voice barely a whisper but he heard her clearly.
“I thought I told you not to come here. You draw too much attention to yourself.” He said flatly.
“I am sorry, my lord. Do forgive the intrusion.” She said, this time more demurely.
“Am I to assume this intrusion bears news?” The Immortal demanded.
“Yes, my lord. The Key has found a third knight. The witch has sent a slayer to collect a fourth.”
“She moves very quickly.” The Immortal said flatly, clenching his fists. “I was lead to understand that it would be very difficult for her to find the knights.”
“I believed that as well, but the Powers have their own plans. I learned only recently that they have found the Dark Knight -”
“Where is he?” The Immortal spun on her, his fist suddenly around her throat. She gasped, and tried to loosen his hands. “Where?” He seethed.
“Paris, my lord . . “ She wheezed.
The Immortal released her throat, and the gowned woman fell heavily to her knees. Dark curly hair made a curtain around her face as she took deep gasping breaths. He didn’t even spare her a glance. His eyes were back on his woman on the dance floor.
“And the sleeper?”
“He - he is still unconscious, my lord. It will be some time before they find him. The Powers are confidant she will find him too late, and already be entangled with the Dark Knight.”
“Yes, my lord.” But she couldn’t hide the uncertainty in her voice.
“They did not tell you, did they?” He asked, contempt in his voice.
“But they do not know, my lord!” She cried, placing a hand on his arm. He shook her off forcefully.
“You are not to touch me. Get from my sight, you’ve nothing to offer me! Be gone!” The Immortal hissed in a deadly tone, his eyes narrowed coldly.
“Yes, my lord.”
The Immortal felt the air lighten as she disappeared. He turned back to his slayer on the dance floor. She was looking at him then, a confused look in her eyes. He controlled his anger and gave her an easy going smile. The Powers would not take her from him again. She was his prize.
Lanyon Fairview brushed the hair out of his face as he took in the breath-taking view of the sea from the cliff-side cafe. He pulled out the tiny sketch book and began dutifully writing his column. Marty, while being a generous boss, wanted something concrete from this ’mandatory vacation’. The fact that Lanyon’s work had been crap since he’d caught John and Susan sprawled out on his sofa. And the subsequent knocking John unconscious. His oldest mate buck naked with his girlfriend.
After three weeks of crappy columns, Marty had assigned him to this travel journal weekly column that he’d offered two months ago. Lanyon had turned it down because he’d been planning on proposing to Sue, now he really didn’t have that holding him back. So he’d packed, made the arrangements and was off. His main goal was to find something quirky about each of the main cities - the night life so to speak. Paris, Barcelona, Brussels, and Rome had been his main objectives, but he’d stopped in a lot of smaller towns along the way. Sighing, he lifted his camera and snapped a few night scenes. He readjusted the lens and panned along the view of the beach below.
The beach was virtually deserted save for one single figure darting out to the water’s edge. He zoomed in more. There stood a long haired woman with a knowing smile on her lips as she turned to stare at him. Lanyon blinked - what the hell? She mouthed four words to him. I’m in Rome, Lan.
Lanyon nearly dropped his camera. He swore he could have heard her whispering it to him. Putting it back to his eye, he searched the beach for that woman once more. But she was gone.
“You’ve had too much wine, Lan.” He muttered to himself. But in the back of his mind, he knew he was heading to Rome. Maybe that dream woman really was in Rome.
The sun was getting lower in the sky and the damn cab was fifteen minutes late. This was the last time she did a favor for Red and Little D. She took another drag on the cigarette. She was supposed to be quitting anyway. Damn.
Faith angrily crushed the cigarette into the pavement with her boot as she watched the cab pull up. She hefted the army surplus bag full of supplies onto her shoulder and slipped the apartment keys into her jacket pocket.
“You Faith Summers?” The lean cabbie called, opening the cab’s door.
“She gave you the name Summers.” Faith snorted. “You gotta be shittin’ me.”
“That mean you ain’t her?” He sighed, looking up at her with something akin to disgust and annoyance.
“No, I’m her. You Bishop?” She snapped. This is what doing favors got her - annoyed knight boys. Okay, so they didn’t get her that
all the time, but they usually got her an annoyed somebody.
“They tell you my name?”
“Trevor Bishop, the cabbie man.” Faith grinned, trying to make this not so confrontational.
“Where you headed to?”
“Friend’s place. Here’s the address.”
Faith handed the cabbie the card with the building address on it. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“It’s hard to say.” Faith shrugged, tossing the bag into the backseat.
“Sure it is.” Trevor snorted, flicking the meter on.
He wasn’t bulky. Had a few inches on her, which gave him the ability to look down on her. He wasn’t as tall as Wood, but he had the height she liked. Red had said he had fighting experience. He had light shaggy brown hair and dark eyes. Faith liked what she saw, and it was much better than that diver’s license picture.
“You been driving this thing long?” Faith asked, leaning forward towards the Plexiglas that separated them.
“You any good?”
“You don’t like to talk much, do you?” When he didn’t say anything, she continued. “I know just your type, man. Mister-no-talk, all action. Bet you’re rock ‘em sock ‘em, am I right?”
“Is that a line you feed everyone?” He replied, catching her eye in the rearview mirror. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes sparked with something.
“Nah, only the good lookin’ guys.” She grinned. “Ok, so I’ve used it once or twice.”
“So, you off soon?” Faith said huskily. “I’m new to town, and I figured I might as well find myself a native who knows the lay of the land.”
“I shouldn’t.” Trevor said seriously.
“No strings, just a drink and some conversation.” Faith said, thinking of the only way to get him to come with her. “I don’t bite. Scout’s honor.”
“Scout?” Something about that word struck him as odd.
“Ok, so I was never a girl scout.” Faith rolled her eyes. This was supposed to be easy. “C’mon, my treat.”
Trevor stared at her for a moment. There was something about that look in her eye. There was almost a pleading quality in her eye. It reminded him of something he knew from before.
“Damn, that was easy.” Faith grinned nervously. She didn’t like this 007 shit. It was damn freaky.
“Yeah, yeah.” Trevor murmured.
Boris stared at the four of them for the longest time. Then he took a deep drink of the beer in front of him. This was insanity. He was a knight? The girl, Dawn, did look familiar though.
“Are you remembering anything?” She asked quietly. The blond, Gavin, pinched her arm under the table. “Ouch.”
“Dawn.” Gavin warned.
“I remember little things. Grave markers. Three of them. A lot of talk about fate not being shared.” Boris said quietly. “Tristan and Lancelot dead. A marker for a woman. Dag’s woman. She died in the battle.”
“Me.” Dawn said softly.
“Badon Hill.” Gwen whispered.
“You - why are you lot finding me now?”
“Because it’s most likely an apocalypse.” Dawn sighed. “Bors -Boris, do you believe me?”
“That we all knew each other in a past life? No.”
“Well, that was simple enough.” Garrett sighed, taking a deep drink of his pint.
“’The Chaste’, you’re working my last damn nerve.” Dawn snapped. She turned to Boris. “Look, you knew them
in past lives. You remember the funerals! You remember Dag.”
“And I remember you, but you’re telling me you did some crazy ass teleporting, Dawn. You’re telling me that you were there two months ago!”
“I was.” Dawn closed her eyes, trying to stop the tears of frustration from rolling down her cheeks.
“Well, she is that. Has a lot to do with her being very pregnant with Dag’s baby. Hormones, you know.” Garrett snapped.
“What?” He sputtered.
“She’s pregnant.” Gwen said, glaring at Garrett. “She’s charged with the mission to gather you all in order to protect this baby.”
“Dag’s - he’s going to be a father?” Boris whispered, his voice choked with emotion and the beer that went down the wrong way.
“I know how incredibly weird and psychotic this all sounds.” Dawn said, breathing deeply. “We’re going to need you in this fight, Boris. But I’m not gonna force you to make any decisions. We want you with us, but it’s up to you to make that choice.” She pulled a card from her pocket. “This is our number in London, call us if you need anything. Think about it, please?”
“C’mon, guys.” Dawn said, slipping from the booth.
Boris watched as the four of them left the pub. He fingered the card, flipping it over twice. As much as he was convinced it was utter lunacy, he was just as sure it wasn’t. Which could be damn confusing to a man who’d just learned that he was the reincarnation of one of the Knights of the Round Table. He stared at the card, not really seeing it, but seeing himself as a young man about nineteen years old.“Damnit, Dag what am I goin’ to do?”
“Besides pick a name?” Dagonet gave him a small smile. The seventeen year old had a tendency to try and be funny.
“I’m not ready to be a father! Hell, by Roman law, I can’t even marry the mother!”
“Bridget’s father’s not going to be happy about that.”
“Bloody Irish wench!”
“And how’s our little Vannie taking the news?” Dagonet asked, still sharpening the dagger on the whet stone.
“Vanora? Why the bloody hell would she care?”
“You are jesting?”
“No, I’m bloody not!”
“She loves you, you idiot. That is a good woman -”
“She’s barely a woman.”
“Fine, don’t heed me.” Dagonet smiled. “Congratulations, da.”
“Just wait till you get one of those wenches with child. I’ll laugh myself stupid.”
“Won’t take long, then will it?”
He downed the pint, and signaled the bartender for an other. Keep the drinks coming, forget the past. But there was something picking at him. Dag would want you to protect his child as he would have protected yours.
Bloody past lives.
Dawn sighed heavily as the boarded the train back to London. Things hadn’t gone very well today. Gwen looped Dawn’s arm through hers and led her to a seat. Garrett and Gavin sat across from them.
“I’m sure he just needs a few days.” Gwen said quietly. “Bors was always the one to need a few -”
“Why?” Dawn said heavily.
“Why the hell did you guys agree to give up your lives and take up this mission?” Dawn asked.
“Nothing better to do.” Gavin said smiling.
“I’m serious.” Dawn sighed. “Why put your lives on hold for me and the baby?”
“Well, it’s not just for you. It’s for the world and whatever fight their getting ready to wage against us.” Gwen reminded her.
“I know! But you didn’t have to.”
“We wanted to.” Garrett said quietly. “We all felt as though we failed in our past lives. Not everyone gets to make up for things like that you know.”
They were quiet for a moment. Garrett, while being very good for amusement factors, had a tendency to knock them flat on their asses sometimes. Damn college educated boys. He narrowed his gaze on her for a moment.
“Why did you choose to do this?”
“Choose? I didn’t -”
“Yes, you did. Gar’s right. And those words never cross my lips.” Gwen sighed. “You could have told the Powers to bugger off. You could have chosen not to have the baby. Or you could have gone off to live in the Andes and have the baby there. You could have never continued your work with the Council, and completely separated yourself from that kind of life.”
“No, I couldn’t have. They - Giles and Buffy - wanted me to get rid of the baby, when they thought I’d been raped. I - I couldn’t get rid of my baby.”
“And if Dag hadn’t been killed? Would you have felt the same?” Gavin asked.
“Yes.” Dawn said confidently. “There was never any other choice.”
“That’s kinda how we feel.” Gwen said quietly.
“Plus, we love ya, so there’s all that mushy shite thrown in for good measure.” Gavin said grinning.
“More like ‘Willow’ wanting.” Gwen retorted. “Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone so infatuated with another person in my whole life.”
“Oh, and you weren’t infatuated with Arthur in the same way?” Gavin asked, tossing the program book at her.
“I take it back, I have seen someone that infatuated with someone else before.” She grinned wickedly. “Garrett with himself!”
“Oi, what did I do?”
“Please, those girls this afternoon didn’t praise you half as much as you praised yourself.”
Dawn smiled softly. They could just do that - take something so serious and put the best spin on it. She was really very lucky to have them. She hoped Boris would join them as well - and Tristan whenever they found him.
Willow rubbed her eyes. She’d been sitting at the computer for hours, hoping to find something on Lancelot. She stared at the sketch and set up the search one more time. Before pressing enter, she stared at the scruffy faced image. Two series of clicks later there was a completely clean-shaven Lancelot.
She hit enter and reached for her bottle of water. After about fifteen seconds there was a pinging noise. There was by-line picture of a local journal columnist. Grabbing her cell, she punched in Dawn’s number.
“Will? What’s up?” Dawn’s voice crackled over the phone.
“I found Lancelot.”
“Really? Where is he?”
“Right now? On assignment in Southern Europe.”
“What’s his name? Assignment? What does that mean?”
“Lanyon Fairview. He lives in Northern England, he’s 25 and a photojournalist. He’s on some sort of travel assignment, or that’s what his editor says he’s on. He should be back in a few weeks, so I should be able to find his address before then.”
“Thanks, Will! I knew you could do it.” But Dawn’s voice sounded strained.
“How did things go with Boris?” Willow asked, tapping her pen on the desk.
“On a scale of 1 to 10? About 4.59.”
“Well, he believes he had a past life - he just doesn’t believe that I was there two months ago.” Dawn sighed. “Hopefully things will go easier when we track down Tristan tomorrow.”
“About that . . . “ Willow said nervously.
“Will? What did you do?”
“I, uh, I kinda sent Faith to go find him.”
“You sent Faith to find Tristan.” Dawn said flatly over the phone.
“She did what?”
Willow winced at the sound of Gavin’s voice over the line. “Give me that phone!”
“It was great talking to you Dawn. I’ll call you later with her location. Bye!” Willow squeaked, clapping the phone shut.
“I’m calling her back!” Gavin growled.
“Gav, she’s not gonna answer. Faith - can handle Tristan.” Dawn said, worrying that Tristan would freak out even worse than Bors had.
“Well, that’s the problem.” Garrett snorted. He was met with three angry glares.
*****~*Near Hadrian’s Wall* ~
Doctor Kingston’s offices were closing for the night, and one lone nurse remained there. The red-haired woman hummed along with the radio as she put the final papers into the envelope labeled Summers, Dawn
“Jenna?” The doctor called from the back examining room.
“Artie? I thought you’d left.” Jenna Vanny called, staring up at her old childhood friend and now employer.
“Just about to - I thought you’d be gonna as well.” The dark haired man leaned on the counter.
“Just about to nip off as well. Just getting the file all ready for our new patient.” Jenna held up the file folder.
“New patient?” Artie leaned forward, staring at the name. “Dawn Summers?”
“A Yank living in London. Her family’s moving into the Old Grange house south of the old. She’s eight weeks pregnant.”
“Why is she moving up here?” Artie said softly.
“I don’t know! I didn’t ask for her life’s story, you idiot!” Jenna laughed at her old friend. Slipping the file into the cabinet, she stretched. “I’ve gotta be going, Mum’s making her famous chicken dish tonight.” Jenna said, grabbing for her coat.
“Damn, I promised my folks I’d meet them for dinner. Da’s still not sure I’m capable of taking over the practice.” Artie sighed.
“Arthur Wallace Kingston, you are capable of running this practice. Your da knows you’re capable.” Jenna tugged on his arm. “Come on, your folks are waiting.”
“Right.”~*North of the Wall*~
There was a faint beeping noise he could hear that surrounded him. He struggled to wake, but they would not let him. Every time he tried to, but a blond haired woman would return to his mind telling him that it wasn’t time yet. He was as trapped as he had been before. The woman told him that it wasn’t his time yet, that he had to learn what it was to live in this world. So he ‘slept’, and the outside world moved on without him once more.
A/N: I am so sorry this chapter took so long to get out. It was one stupid thing after another. Next chapter should be up within the next week.