D/C: No, just no. Not even a bit, not even a smidge.

THANKS: Thank you to the lovely Boriqua522 for beta-ing for me. I'm forever grateful to fanfiction for introducing me to you. You make all my fics better.

A/N: There are a few obvious problems with this fic - the fact that none of them notice how similar their names are to the historical characters, the fact that for a Maori boy, Nasim has the most Muslim name imaginable. Just go with it and hopefully I can make it worth the read...

'… So the rebels buried Spartacus, and he was returned to Sura's arms in the next life.'

'Gay!' came a shout from one of the boys of the back of the class.

'Your brother's gay,' a jeer from a different boy.

'Halt die verdammte Klappe!' The first boy responded a slight growl to his words. The teacher just rolled her eyes. It wasn't uncommon for the four boys at the back of her class to bicker endlessly through her Classics lessons. It also wasn't uncommon for Duroc to resort to spitting German phrases at his so called friends. She doubted that the boy had ever even been to Germany, his older brother was in the senior class at school so the family must have been in New Zealand for at least seven years and from the Aussie accent both brothers had, she guessed they must have lived there for most of their childhoods. It didn't stop Duroc proudly claiming his German routes at every possible opportunity though.

If she was honest, Duroc and the rest of the boys had actually been pretty well behaved for the last four periods. The story of Spartacus' life from the blood and sands of the arena through his vengeance against Glauber and finally entering his war of the damned against Crassus seemed to have captured the attention of every member of her class, but now things were back to how they usually were and Duroc punctuated the point by sending a fist flying into the boy next to him.

'Duroc,' she scolded. 'Stand up.' The boy did as he was told. He looked a bit like his brother, a cheeky grin on his face, same hairstyle. He was tall like him too, but Duroc was more foolish. Duroc was too easily influenced by people around him, too quick to join in anything that would stop him being perceived as a victim; because he had been the victim … for a while.

A hand went up at the front of the class.

'Yes,' she said, not taking her attention away from the boys at the back of the class, who were now attempting to subtly stab Duroc in the legs with their compasses.

'Do you think Spartacus was returned to Sura?' the accompanying question was asked. 'In the next life, I mean.'

She didn't need to look down to know who would have spoken those words; Nasim. He was the only one even remotely interested in the romance of Spartacus. The boys had spoken almost exclusively of the fighting, the girls had spoken off the gladiators sweating and straining under the hot sun with barely anything to cover their bodies. Nasim had asked repeatedly about love.

'It's what Spartacus believed...' the teacher nodded. 'Milo, Ross! Cut it out!' she warned the boys who were still goading Duroc, before turning to look at Nasir. '… That's what's important.'

The boy seemed content enough with that answer and returned to doodling in the corner of his exercise book. He was a strange boy, fiercely determined and good-hearted and refusing to play along with the other boys' low expectations of him. He preferred the company of girls and with his long, black hair and dark, focused eyes, he was as pretty as any of them.

'What about the others, Miss?' one of the girls in the class asked, once Duroc was told he could sit down. 'Did any of them survive after Spartacus was killed?'

'There's a lot of debate among the historians,' the teacher sighed, perching on the edge of her desk. The class seemed to be listening once again, excited to hear the epilogue of the story. 'It's generally accepted that Agron survived, can someone remind me who Agron was?'

'He was one of the generals,' Milo all but yawned from the back of the room, it was like being intelligent was so bloody tiresome for him.

'He was German,' Duroc added proudly.

'He was,' the teacher nodded, to both the students. 'But little is known of what happened to him. Some say he took a small band of Spartacus' followers to true freedom, others say he led them to an unwinnable battle a few short months later and died in conflict. Some even believe he just lived as a shepherd far away in the mountains.'

'No way,' Duroc said determinedly. 'No German warrior would just start herding goats.'

'It's said he was crippled whilst captured by the Romans. Perhaps if he couldn't fight, he might turn to something more peaceful.'

'Like goats, all German's are great dirty goat fuckers,' Milo snorted.

'Hurensohn!' Duroc spat. It was going to break out into a full scale war if she wasn't careful. Duroc seemed particularly on edge today.

'Duroc! Milo!' the teacher shouted. 'It's time for you to be split up I think. Milo, you can stand outside the door.'

'But….'

'Go!'

Milo sulked heavily as he dragged himself to his feet and stamped his way to the door.

'Duroc, you can sit at the front next to Nasim.'

Poor Nasim, she thought as the sort-of-German, sort-of-Aussie boy dropped into the seat beside him. This was just as much a punishment for the Māori boy as it was for Duroc.

'Alright Nazzy,' Duroc said ruffling Nasir's hair and causing the neat half plat he always wore it in to be dislodged and messy.

A muttered: 'Duroc,' was all the response he got, as Nasim tried to tidy himself up again.

'Now,' the teacher said. Finally the whole class seemed to be listening. 'We're going to do some paired research on the subject of Spartacus. You are going to choose a member of the rebels and together you will be asked to complete a presentation on what you have learned by a week Friday.' The groan from the class was to be expected, as was the scraping of chairs as they all stood up to find a partner to work with. 'No need to move,' she said quickly. 'Just work with the person next to you. Sybel,' she said to the strange little anti-social girl who sat alone at the front. 'You can work with Milo.' She opened the door to allow him back in and pointed to the seat at the front next to her.

'What!' Milo protested. 'No way am I working with Sybel the smell!'

'Milo Gannycas, sit down!' the teacher growled. She looked around the class. Generally the students were paired up with people of similar standard and ability and people they would consider friends. It was just the front two tables who would be seething with anger.

'Who do you want to do?' the teacher heard Nasim asking his moody partner. 'I think we should do.'

'Agron,' both he and Duroc finished at the same time.

'Exactly,' Nasir agreed, nodding a little. The teacher smiled, maybe that would be a pairing that would work out after all.

'I think we should study Saxa,' Milo was insisting.

'Mira,' Sybel argued.

'Saxa.'

'Mira.'

'Saxa!'

Most of the boys wanted to do a project about the undefeated Gaul, or about Spartacus himself but a few had chosen to talk about Oenomeus and one or two about Gannicus. One particularly crafty and unpredictable child in the class had even persuaded his partner to help him with a project about the devious Syrian Ashur. There would be a lot of variety in the projects, at least that's what she hoped.

Thanks for reading this prologue. Ten points if you can guess all the reincarnated characters we met in this chapter - there are plenty more to come (the next chapter includes Arron; no points if you guess who he is the reincarnation of).