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Disclaimer: I own nothing save characters not appearing in King Arthur, Buffy, or Angel. This story is not meant to insult, impugn the dignity of, or otherwise cause difficulty for the reader. Flames will be used to heat my house, constructive comments will be welcomed and used to improve the story.
Author's Note: Apologies but I'm also addicted to the "Bring Me The Head of Prince Charming" series. So, yes, you're not imagining about the name of Faith's ancestor--it is the name of Azzie's witch. BTW, your reviews rocked and I just want to say, keep letting me know what you think. And never think that I don't want to hear what you have to say. I wouldn't ask for reviews if I didn't want to know your thoughts.
Latin in modern portions: italics
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Anywhere's Better Than Cleveland
Chapter Five: Decision
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Giles frowned, looking at the vial of blood. Inside this glass container was the essence of a slayer, one who had trod both the light and the dark. Would her DNA be enough to find the replacement?
Willow held her slim hand out for the vial and stared pointedly at the watcher.
Giles nodded and released the vial to Willow, who quickly unstoppered the vial and poured some of its contents into a bowl. "I'll leave you to your scrying," advised Giles, stepping from the white-haired witch's room and heading back into the hallway.
Buffy was waiting, her expression expectant. "And?"
Giles shut the door, shaking his head. "We must wait."
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The dark-haired girl took a steadying breath, thankful that whatever had pulled her from her home had left her well-armed. Wherever she was, there were creatures of the darkness just like at home but more plentiful. She crept forward, the stake in her hand reassuring. She'd already interrupted two of the undead as they tried to slaughter a girl younger than her in far more revealing clothing.
The light of the church seemed to draw her forward and Ylith quickly ascended the stone stairs to the door, pushing the door open and slipping inside. The altar gleamed with gold and ivory and she stood for a moment, dumbstruck. Wherever she was, it was a land of riches untold even in the fine city of Londinium.
She stayed along the wall, close enough to the door to escape if necessary, and smiled. Consecrated ground was safety and would give her time to figure out this world she'd found herself in.
"Excuse me, miss, are you alright?" called the young priest, approaching the slayer.
Ylith frowned. The language sounded like Saxon but he didn't look like a Saxon. His hair reminded her of the Caledonians, the locks thick and coppery. His skin was freckled and he had green eyes. Definitely not Saxon.
"Where am I? " she demanded in Latin.
The priest halted. Latin? The girl spoke Latin? No one save his students or fellow priests even learned Latin, let alone spoke it with the ease he heard from this girl. He frowned and quickly pulled to the fore the Latin that he had learned as both a boy in school and at the seminary. "You are in New York," he answered quickly.
The girl frowned and tightened her grip on the stake in her hand. New York? How in the name of God had she ended up in New York? She'd been in Vindolanda, not this New York. She frowned at the priest. He looked like the priests from home. "Where is this New York?" she demanded.
The priest's frowned again. "It's in the state of New York, in the country of the Unites States, on the planet Earth," he explained patiently. If he had a wacko he had to keep her calm before he called the men in white coats.
He hadn't expected her to pass out.
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Faith groaned and rolled over. The bad thing about slaying in the fifth century was that she couldn't exactly go to the club, pick up a random guy, then go back to his place for wild monkey sex. Instead, she dusted vamps then came back to her room and tried to forget the horniness that always came after she wasted a few undead.
Maybe she should take Lancelot or one of the knights up on their all-to-blatant offers of dancing the horizontal mamba with her.
No.
She sat up. She needed to do something physical. Sex was out of the question. So she needed to come up with something else to do. Throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, she quickly rose and dressed in the clothes that Vanora had kindly provided. The dresses were serviceable and somewhat plain but they hugged her body without restricting her movement. Her only complaint was that she was actually a little shorter than Vanora so the skirts brushed the ground instead of falling just below the ankle.
She slid the window open, the breeze from outside the room chilling her. She ignored it and clambered out, dropping silently to the ground outside. She needed to blow off steam. She started towards the main courtyard.
A heavy bag would do.
But what could she use?
The stables beckoned and Faith slipped into the home of the horses, her eyes searching for an acceptable substitute for her heavy bag at home. She grinned as she spotted a heavy bag of oats. She tested the fabric with a punch. It was sturdy, the weave tight and new. It would do.
Now for something to suspend it with. She did a quick search and found a rope. Thank goodness for slayer strength and agility, she thought as she suspended the bag of oats from the rafters above the riding ring.
She dropped back to the dirt of the ring and approached her creation. She slammed her fist into the bag, reveling in the vibration that raced up her arm, telling her the punch had been solid. More punches followed. She kicked out, her foot thudding solidly into the bag. Then knees and elbows.
Finally spent, Faith stepped back from the bag. The bag looked decidedly worse for wear. She climbed back up to the rafters and untied the rope suspending the bag above the floor. The bag dropped softly to the ground, as did the slayer. Soon she had undone all evidence of her late-night practice and tucked the rope and the oats back where it had been.
After all, it wouldn't do for her to leave behind a mess.
She chuckled softly as she headed back to her room, suddenly feeling a great deal more relaxed.
And Giles would be so proud of her for cleaning up after herself.
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Tristan took a bite of his apple, watching Faith as she joked with Vanora. That Bors's lover had taken so quickly and easily to the newest serving girl was a surprise. Usually Vanora was more cautious around new women, as if she was concerned that they would be competition for her affections. Usually she was correct and quickly asserted her dominance over the other women in the tavern.
That, however, did not seem to apply to Faith. For one thing, the dark-haired girl had never led any of the knights to believe that she wished to warm their beds or any part of their anatomies.
This had left Lancelot heartbroken for perhaps an hour. Then the lothario had tugged another serving girl onto his lap, whispered something in her ear that had the girl giggling, and left soon after to satisfy his urges. The others had also turned their attention to the other serving girls, much to the consternation of Vanora. The red-haired tavern owner had scolded not only her employees but also the knights for distracting them.
In other words it was a normal night at the tavern.
Though he still had not decided what to do about the dark-haired girl.
His duty told him that he should tell Arthur about this strange child with her dark hair and near naked form prowling the alleys of Vindolanda. Another part, the part that clung to his homeland and their ways, kept him from speaking of her secret to his commander. The monster that she had killed had been about to kill another, a girl who, while not innocent, certainly did not deserve to be a monster's meal.
She was not harming anyone.
If she did, he would take care of her.
Decided, he returned to his apple.
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TBC...
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To My Wonderful Reviewers:
BleedingTwilight: Bless you. I'm so glad that you're enjoying that I'm being a fiend about updating. Now if I can only urge my muses toward some of my other stories. Sigh. And I'll try to throw as many roadblocks at Willow as I can. Just for you. Grin.
Samantha/Anime Princess: Yay! We stayed in character. So glad that you are enjoying. And, as promised, we're finding out about her ancestor. And no, you are not plaguing me with questions. You are letting me know what I need to explain so that it makes more sense. Yup, Tristan knows. And seems like he's holding off on that. We'll see what happens.
BornWithAFever: Yup, I'll admit that it is a different story than most. And thank you for liking it so far. I know that I could have just concentrated fully on the ancestor part of the story without stating that she'd gone into a movie. You're right, it might have been better. As to why Faith is in a movie verse, think of it as if King Arthur was a documentary capturing actual historical events. In some kind of reality, it might be. And Faith has found herself replacing someone from that alternate history. I can understand preferring a person going back in time not knowing about the movie. In most cases I am the same. You're right, Faith never would have watched the movie on her own. She indeed considers it Dawn's favorite movie, not hers. The way that I'm treating it is that she was transported into an alternate reality where the movie is the real history. So glad that you're enjoying and I promised another reader to update with another chapter on this and my Who Wouldn't Want A Sarmatian story, so there will be more. And I took your suggestion and we're going to learn more about the person that Faith replaced. :) Thank you. And, please, keep the reviews coming. I wasn't kidding when I said that I live for them.