DISCLAIMER: I own neither Merlin or Buffy The Vampire Slayer.
RATING: currently T for sexual situations and language - this is subject to change
WARNINGS: SLASH (Ye have been warned), language, sexual situations, violence of a supernatural kind
SUMMARY: Arthur is the Slayer, the one with the power to destroy vampires, demons, & the forces of darkness. Which can be a problem, when you're dating a vampire. Arthur/Merlin SLASH
A/NAnyone who has seen Buffy The Vampire Slayer will recognise that the concept of this fic is borrowed from the show. Although based on Buffy, the plot to this story is mostly different, and you need no prior knowledge of the show.
I've never tried anything like this before, so please give it a chance and let me know what you think! :)
The Calling - Prologue
It starts when Arthur is walking back from football practise in the dark, after a rather uneventful day sitting at the back of class, flicking pieces of paper at the dweeb sat in front of him, and generally avoiding doing any sort of work. It's typical day for him, as normal and unexciting as ever, and he's looking forward to going home, taking a long, hot shower, and entertaining himself by abusing his friends (well, mostly Morgana) over Facebook, and watching reality shows on TV.
Arthur's so busy imagining his lazy evening, in fact, that he barely notices a man waiting on the corner of the street, dressed in a dark brown suit, and wearing a frown. He brushes past him, fiddling with his iPod, oblivious - when suddenly, a hand snaps out and clutches his arm.
Arthur jumps out of his skin, letting out a rather high-pitched shriek, as the suited man addresses him, his face haggard and hair grey in the lamplight. "Hello Arthur Pendragon," he says, his voice soft and greeting, but his grip is unrelenting, surprisingly strong for such papery hands.
The blond tries to pull away on instinct, squirming, and lets out a rather indigent, "Hey!" He stumbles backwards, blinking in incomprehension, because he has to be hallucinating - nothing this interesting ever happens where he lives. "What the fuck?!"
"Do not be alarmed, Pendragon," the stranger says, and Arthur chokes back a bout of nervous laughter, because honestly, it's far too late for that. "I only wish to speak to you."
"Yeah, right mate," Arthur retorts, relieved to note he sounds suitably sarcastic, instead of completely terrified. He clutches at his iPod and his bag protectively, willing to fight to the death if the man wishes to steal them from him. It shouldn't be too hard a fight, after all - the guy looks pretty old.
Before he can turn and flee up the street, however, like the complete coward he is, something registers - rather belatedly - in Arthur's mind. "Hey, hang on!" he cries, stabbing his finger accusingly, "How'd you know my name?"
"I've been sent to you," the man replies matter-of-factly, sounding irritatingly calm in comparison to Arthur's internal panic. He dusts off his suit a bit, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, and informs the blond, "I am Gaius, sent to you from the Watcher's Council."
There's a pause, in which Arthur attempts to figure out whether the man is joking or not, while they stare at each other unblinking. As it turns out, Gaius doesn't appear to be joking, and Arthur has to wonder if the Watcher's Council is some sort of loony asylum.
"I've been sent to find you, Arthur Pendragon," the man continues, as though Arthur knows exactly what the Watcher's Council is, "To inform you of your destiny." He puffs out his chest a bit, and pauses, presumably to mount the tension, before announcing, "You are the Chosen One. You are the Slayer."
Arthur stares at him in complete bewilderment, and exclaims, rather loudly, "I'm the what?!
"Look," Arthur says, quite rationally, an hour later, as they walk through a graveyard, "I don't care what sort of pills you're taking, but I don't want to be part of your delusions, ok?" He rounds the nearest gravestone, and shuffles along uncomfortably, the shadows of the trees moving mockingly against the grass. "I'm just a normal teenager - I've never slain anything!" He pauses for a moment. "Well, apart from that hedgehog that I ran over in my driveway."
The man, who calls himself Gaius of the Watcher's Council, raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, and points out, rather smugly, "You wouldn't have agreed to walk with me if you weren't the least bit interested in what I have to say."
Arthur pulls his hoodie tighter around himself - shivering in the breeze - and informs him, in his most superior tone, "Yes, well, I've changed my mind." He casts a wary eye at his surroundings, slightly alarmed by the faint rustle of trees and the glow of the headstones in the moonlight. He wouldn't call himself scared exactly, because he's a Pendragon, but there's something sinister about the place, and every instinct in his body is telling him to run. "How was I supposed to know you were going to walk me to a graveyard?"
Gauis stares at him, as though the answer is obvious. "Where else would I lead the Slayer?" he asks, in what appears to be a rhetorical question, coming to stop by a gravestone. He looks fragile, and very, very old as he bends over to inspect the memorial, hunched within the confines of his suit.
Arthur hovers awkwardly, unsure as to whether he should just cut his loses and leave, before he finds himself asking, without any consent of his brain, "The Slayer? That's what you called me, right?"
Gaius smiles at him - an ominous smile, that sends ripples of panic racing down Arthur's spine. "Yes. You are the Slayer."
Arthur's fairly sure he's not a slayer of any kind, considering he can't play a simple game of football with receiving some sort of injury, but responds to his words nevertheless. "What the hell does that mean?!" he exclaims, more than a little confused by the strange turn his evening has taken.
"It means you're the one with the power," the Watcher replies, which isn't exactly informative.
Arthur flings up his hands, frustrated, and snaps, "What power?"
Gaius ignores him and looks up and down the graveyard, circling a headstone and peering down at the newly dug grave. "You alone can stop them," he continues, as though he's not even aware that Arthur had been speaking, inspecting the stone with careful fingers, and suit jacket flapping in the breeze.
"Stop who?" Arthur asks, completely bewildered and growing increasing freaked out, having lost all handle he had on the conversation - not that he had much to begin with. He shakes his head, backing away, and turns to look for the exit; his hands are shaking in the pockets of his hoodie, and he's not sure why he's so alarmed.
"The vampires," Gaius replies, quite pleasantly, and somehow the answer isn't even surprising, because the man is quite obviously insane.
"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur retorts, stumbling backwards and almost colliding with a headstone, his voice strangely high-pitched, "Vampires aren't real."
Gaius surveys him for a long moment, eyes revolving over his face searchingly, and back ramrod straight. "Into every generation a Slayer is born," he begins, in a factual tone, "They alone will stop the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness." He nods at him in a knowing sort of way, and gestures with a long sweep of a hand. "You are that Slayer."
Arthur boggles. "I - what?"
Gaius bends down slightly - well as much as a three-hundred year old can - and reaches inside his suit jacket, pulling out what appears to be a very sharp wooden instrument. Arthur stares at it for a moment, thinking holy shit, he is going to kill me, before he realises it's an actual wooden stake. Hidden in his suit!
"What - the - hell?" is all he can say in response.
The old man approaches him, hand outstretched, and Arthur is frozen to the spot, torn between turning and fleeing with his dignity in tatters, or actually entertaining the ridiculous notion that he's some sort of mystical Slayer. He takes the stake automatically, staring at it in complete bewilderment, as Gaius retreats, a small smile twitching at his lips.
Arthur opens his mouth, ready to issue some sort of denial - however shaky it may be - before the grave in which they are standing begins to shake. Only small tremors, but Arthur can feel it - from his hands, all the way down to the tips of his spine. The newly dug earth is moving, shifting, and as Arthur watches in horror, a hand bursts through the ground.
It's brown, and dirty, and clawing desperately at thin air.
"Oh my god," he breathes, sounding sick, even to his own ears. "That's disgusting!"
Gaius, on the other hand, sounds no less collected than he did a moment ago - and suddenly Arthur hates him, just a bit. "You alone can stop the vampires," he repeats, just as the hand, and then an arm, and then a torso, scrabbles it's way to the surface.
Arthur blinks, and before he quite knows what's happened, he's facing an actual vampire - hunched, covered in dirt, and snarling. It appears to be a man - or at least it was a man - but the face is contorted, brow scrunched and pointy teeth bared. He staggers forward, golden eyes fixed on its prey, and launches at Arthur a moment later, faster than the eye can see.
The blond is knocked completely off his feet and receives a mouthful of grass, but his hand is still firmly grasped on the stake Gaius had given him, lodged against his side. He hears growling in his ear, and knows the vampire is on top of him, snapping at his neck. On instinct, he kicks out his feet, and it must catch the vampire somewhere, because he manages to wriggle free in an impressive flailing of limbs.
"Gaius!" he cries, stumbling to his feet and ducking behind a tombstone as the vampire comes at him again, launching over the top of him. "Help!"
But the old man merely stands to the side, watching him carefully, head cocked and hands clasped firmly behind his back. "You don't need my help," he replies, and for a moment, Arthur really feels like swearing at him.
He turns, just as the vampire is about to leap at him again, and in a blind panic, does the only thing he can think of: thrust his stake straight through the creature's heart. The vampire, for a moment, makes a surprised sort of gurgling noise, before it's body all but explodes, skeleton disintegrating, reduced to dust before their eyes.
Arthur stares for a long moment, aghast, and manages to voice one, "Fuck."
"Good," says Gaius, in a tone of congratulations, with what might even be a smile. "Good. There could have been less hiding and more fighting, but you staked him, and that's all that matters."
Arthur makes a sound that's nothing more than a whine.
"I told you," Gaius says, "you have the power."
Arthur nods, somewhat shakily, and stares down at his hands in bewilderment. He has the power? He'd never - how had he never noticed? It's tingling in his fingertips, singing in his veins. He feels it.
"I have the power," he agrees, puffing out his chest. He nods. "Cool."
To be continued...
A/N Please R&R if you'd like me to continue, this is something I've never really tried before!
This is just a prologue, actual chapters should be much longer.