Disclaimer - I do not own Merlin or Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Warnings - SLASH, language, violence, scenes of a sexual nature

NOTE: This fic is completely unbetad, so any mistakes are mine that I haven't spotted in the reread

The Calling - Chapter 3

At lunch Lance and Gwen come to sit with him. It's hardly a rare occurrence, but he had hoped - somewhat foolishly - that his twisted scowl and plainly dark mood would warn them away. They seem to be immune to twisted scowls and dark moods, however, because they approach him with wide smiles, and trays filled with various foods.

"So," Lance says, as soon as they're seated, looking eager, expectant, and a little bit confused, "You were crushing on a vampire?"

Arthur groans, cursing Gaius for telling them, because honestly, it's the last thing he wants to talk about, and flicks a chip at Lance's head. "For I start, I was not crushing," he informs them, in his most snotty tone. He crunches down on his burger as loudly and obnoxiously as possible, resisting the urge to put his fist through the bench (which he could) and make himself feel better. "I barely knew him. I just thought he was mildly -" insanely, he brain corrects "- attractive."

Lance, seemingly unable to sense it's an uncomfortable subject, surges onwards, as Gwen looks on in dismay. "But he took you back to his place?" he says, eyes wide and curious. "And you slept in his bed?"

Arthur answers through gritted teeth, and not just because he's eating, swearing to himself he will never tell anyone anything, ever again. "I didn't sleep. I was unconscious."

Lance takes a few seconds to process this information, nodding, and helps himself to his own packet of crisps. Just as Arthur thinks the subject has been dropped, however, he speaks again, sounding confused. "Did you not notice?" he asks.

"That he was an evil creature of the undead?" Arthur replies. "No Lance, obviously not. He wasn't exactly forthcoming with the details."

"Still, you know, I thought you might have some sort of Slayer sense - like a vampire locator," Lance says conversationally, evidently oblivious to Arthur's mounting annoyance. He munches thoughtfully for a few moments, before asking, as though the answer is not obvious, "Do you have a vampire locator?"

Arthur stares at his friend incredulously. Then, "No!"

That night, Arthur finds himself in a now familiar graveyard, beating the nearest vampire to a pulp and trying not to imagine Merlin coming for him, fangs bared and eyes gleaming. He hadn't known the man long, but he'd seemed sweet, and helpful, and good - and Arthur feels just a little bit cheated.

He knocks the vampire back, and with a small cry of frustration that has nothing to do with the fight, Arthur stakes him through with chest with unnecessary force - the vampire exploding in a violent shower of ash. Arthur dusts off his hands, not feeling much happier, when a voice sounds from behind him.

"You're getting better," says the voice, soft and kind, "The fight with Valiant did you good."

Arthur spins on a heel - faster than he's ever moved before - and launches forward, landing a swift uppercut on the vampire's jaw that sends him spiralling backwards. He hits the floor, looking confused but unharmed, before Arthur descends on him, bracing Merlin's hips between his legs and pressing his stake, sharp, against the man's unbeating heart.

"Whoa!" Merlin cries, eyes wide and very blue, staring down at the stake in complete astonishment. He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, but Arthur is unrelenting, pushing him down harder into the grass. "What are you doing?!"

"Don't play innocent with me!" Arthur cries, sounding far angrier than he actually intended. He cringes, annoyed with himself for sounding so painfully uncool, but continues regardless, his stake actually shaking against the other man's throat. "I know what you are, vampire!"

Merlin blinks in surprise, looking - for a moment - very lost and very small, before something changes in his expression. His face twists, and there's a flash of amber in his eyes, and Arthur thinks, crap, he really is a vampire, his heart sinking to somewhere around his navel. He presses his stake into Merlin's chest, nervous and shaky, because the vampire has killed Slayer's like him before, and with good reason - because a moment later, Merlin surges his hips, knocking Arthur off balance and onto the floor, as he twirls to his feet, faster than anything the Slayer's seen before.

"Hey!" Merlin yelps, as Arthur regains his bearings and leaps back upright. He waves his hands around a bit, dodging to the side as the Slayer reaches for him, his moves light and graceful - almost lightning fast - a little bit like he's dancing. "Stop attacking me!"

"What?! So you can kill me first?!" Arthur snaps, kicking and punching in an impressive flailing of limbs.

Merlin evades his attacks in a scary show of speed, although barely - because Arthur begins to adjust, becoming more brutal, and more accurate. At first the vampire makes no effort to fight back, only defend, until Arthur finally lands a blow - a blow so filled with contempt and frustration that Merlin goes hurtling backwards, over a headstone and into a tomb. He crumbles to the ground and Arthur seizes his chance, flying forward with his stake in his grasp.

Merlin, however, seems unwilling to just let Arthur stake him - which although unsurprising, doesn't quell Arthur's anger at all. He strikes his fist out at the Slayer's approach, and it catches him around the jaw, snapping his neck back with such force that Arthur knows he'll be suffering from whiplash for weeks. He tumbles across the ground, and smacks his head against a tombstone so hard that stars explode behind his eyelids. He brings a hand up to his hair and feels warm, sticky blood trickle through his fingertips.

The vampire is staring at him through bright searching eyes, but makes no move to attack, merely watching Arthur investigate his head-wound, braced against the cold stone. "I'm sorry," he says, sounding loud and a little bit fuzzy in the quiet world that's blurring in and out of Arthur's vision. "Are you ok?"

The Slayer clings to the tombstone he collided with, and uses it as support as he staggers to his feet, blood dripping down his face and over his new (and designer) T-shirt. "Why do you care?" he spits, disorientated and confused, because why isn't Merlin attacking him again?

"Look, I don't mean you any harm," the vampire says, and Arthur laughs - croaky and disbelieving - because somehow, he doubts that. "If I wanted to kill you, don't you think I would have done it already, when you were lying unconscious in my bed?!"

Being unconscious and vulnerable in Merlin's bed is really not something Arthur wants to think about, and so he shakes his head, aware it's a stupid thing to do when his injury throbs in protest. He curses. "I don't know," he stammers, taking a deep breath and trying to regain his focus, "Maybe you have an ulterior motive."

"I don't," Merlin replies, cringing as he climbs to his feet, rubbing at his jaw where Arthur had smacked him. "You know, you've got a pretty good punch." He scrunches up his face, and it really shouldn't look so cute, but it does. "You're strong, even by a Slayer's standards."

Arthur laughs for a moment, but it's cold and without humour, because he guesses Merlin would know. He's killed two Slayers, after all - he must count as an expert.

"And you're fast," Arthur retorts, surveying the man through narrowed eyes, "Even for a vampire."

The vampire smiles - the sweet smile, full of sunshine and rainbows - and nods, not smugly, but in definite agreement. "I've been told that," he replies, hovering awkwardly, like he wants to approach but doesn't dare try. It's strange and disconcerting, because Merlin looks so tiny and fragile, but there's a spring in his step and a gleam in his eye.

Arthur watches him for a moment, and they fall into silence, as the Slayer attempts to make sense of information that's unravelled. He groans, rubbing at his head, but the blood is drying now - his Slayer healing already in motion. "If you don't want to kill me," he says uncertainly, Merlin's inconceivable claims ringing in his ears, "What do you want?"

Merlin bounces on the balls of his feet, apparently overcome with nervous energy, and replies, "I want to help you," with such resolute sincerity, Arthur almost believes him.

"Why?" he asks, confused, and tired, and completely lost.

Merlin laughs to himself, a breathless chuckle, and announces, "It's my destiny."

Arthur stares at him, hoping that it's some sort of joke, because he's really had enough of destiny lately. "God," he says, after a belated pause, "I really hate that word."

"So, you wanted me to listen," Arthur says a few minutes later, after he's had time to gather his thoughts and make himself comfortable. He's sat himself on the brick wall lining the graveyard (still gripping his stake), with Merlin in front of him, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "I'm listening."

Merlin takes a deep breath - wholly unnecessary, considering he's a vampire - and fiddles with his fingers, a gesture disconcertingly vulnerable when compared to the intensity of his expression. His eyes take in every angle of Arthur's face, which must look pale and sickly in the moonlight, so bright and unblinking that Arthur has to look away.

"Believe me when I say," the vampire ventures at last, floating closer slightly, as though he can't stop himself, "I don't mean you any harm."

Arthur coughs after a brief struggle not to laugh in disbelief, fingering the blood that has dried on his hands. "Is that what you said to the last two Slayers?" he replies, unforgiving.

Merlin shakes his head, looking like he's at a loss on how to defend himself, something that Arthur doesn't find particularly reassuring. "It's not like that," he explains, after a heavy pause. He smiles to himself, almost as a sad smile, as he struggles with his words. "I'm different - I have a soul now."

Arthur reels, taken aback, because out of all the excuses Merlin could have invented, he wasn't expecting that. Everybody knows that vampires are evil - they don't have souls.

"What?" he mouths, eyes searching for any trace of a lie in Merlin's expression. But the vampire's face is open and earnest, and it's not like Arthur could figure out Merlin was lying when he was lying, so he's probably not the greatest judge. He shakes his head, confused, and croaks, "A soul?"

"Yes. After killing a gypsy girl over a hundred years ago, I was cursed to spend eternity paying for my evil," he explains, in a soft and distant voice. His eyes are unblinking, and his face rigid, having lost any trace of its previous youth and vulnerability; he looks as though he's in pain. "They restored my soul, knowing I would have to spend every moment of every day remembering the lives that I had taken and the pain that I caused."

Arthur almost wants to reply good, because Merlin's a killer, but there's something in the honest and pained tone of his voice that stops him.

"The memories never go away," Merlin continues, "But I haven't killed or harmed anyone since that day. I hope that if I help you, it might help balance the scales."

"So," Arthur begins, trying to rearrange everything Merlin had just said into something resembling sense, "You're a good vampire?" The words feel strange on his tongue.

"I try," Merlin replies, nodding his head and taking a seat next to the Slayer, now sure he's not going to be staked where he stands. He swings his legs backwards and forwards, like a child, as Arthur stares at his profile unblinkingly - the fluttering of his lashes and the slope of his lips. "I mean, I haven't fed on anyone in over a hundred years, and I try to help, where I can."

Arthur processes this slowly, and nods. "Like me."

Merlin tilts his head and smiles at him, previous pain forgotten - looking young, guileless, and not at all like a vampire. His face is deathly pale, but Arthur can see no other trace of demon, and wonders, rather belatedly, if he really does need a vampire locator. Or whether vampires can just where flashing signs for him, just to make things clear.

"Yes, I wanted to help you," Merlin replies, "I'm supposed to help you." He stares at Arthur with gleaming eyes, and reaches out a hand, ghosting a finger across the Slayer's temple, where the blood has dried from his head-wound. Arthur freezes at the contact, stuttering in a breath, as the vampire fingers - cold and steely - press delicately against his injury.

"I'm sorry," Merlin breathes, his brow furrowed in something that might resemble regret and concern. "I was just reacting - I didn't mean to hurt you."

His voice startles Arthur out of his stupor, and he jerks back, pulling himself away from the vampire's touch; not just because he's afraid that Merlin will hurt him, but because he's afraid he might actually like it. "Hey, no touch," he croaks, shaky and uncomfortable, because Merlin is a vampire - soul or not - and he just can't go there. "I didn't - I didn't say I believed you."

Merlin's face falls at the rejection, but he rearranges his features almost a moment later - so quickly, Arthur thinks he might have imagined it. "Right. Of course," the vampire says, in a professional sort of tone, tucking his hand back against his side and swinging his legs, harder and faster than he had been before.

The sit in silence for an uncomfortable minute, Arthur attempting to process the events that have just transpired, until he can't take the tension any longer. "So where do we go from here?" he asks, questioning and confused, because he sure as hell has no idea. Are they enemies? Allies? Friends?

"Well," Merlin replies, taking in a long breath that isn't really necessary, "I actually came here tonight to give you some information." He climbs back to his feet, the intimate atmosphere having evaporated, and draws himself up, looking tall, collected, and much more like a vampire. "I found out that Valiant from the other night was working for someone - someone very powerful."

Arthur groans, because it's really not what he wants to hear. Valiant had been hard enough, and he really doesn't even want to think about having to face someone stronger than him; it's not a pleasant thought.

"Who?"

Merlin pauses for a moment (presumably gathering tension), before he replies, in a meaningful voice, "The Queen."

"Queen Elizabeth?!" Arthur exclaims, aghast.

There's a stilted pause, before Merlin corrects in an incredulous voice, "The Vampire Queen!" He looks exasperated, amused, and a little bit like he's judging him.

Arthur just feels embarrassed.

"Oh, ok," he mouths, face heating, "Well that makes more sense."

"Soul?" Lance exclaims the next day, eyes so round they look as though they're about to pop out of his head. "Is that even possible?" He opens his mouth, closes it again, clearly a bit stumped, and repeats, "A vampire - with a soul."

Gaius raises an exasperated eyebrow, but nods his head, shuffling through his books and riffling through pages. He pushes his glasses further up his nose, knocks Arthur's legs off the library table (where he had been leisurely stretching them), and turns to address the assembled group. They all stare at him expectantly.

"It's certainly possible," he concedes, after a pause.

"I've heard of ancient gypsy spells like that," Morgana replies, looking up from where she's intently filing her nails, sounding knowing and important. "Most were lost over time, so whether he's actually telling the truth -"

"Um, guys," Arthur interrupts loudly, shaking his head, because he's had enough of talking about Merlin. Merlin, the vampire who had haunted his dreams the night before - disturbing him with images of blood, death, touch, and kisses. "Can we forget Merlin for a bit? Aren't we supposed to be focusing on the important stuff here?"

Lance, Gwen and Morgana, all stare at him, confused, until Gaius nods his head in agreement.

"Ah, yes," the Watcher says, tapping at his book significantly, "The Vampire Queen." He lets out a breath, his expression sombre, and clears his throat with a papery hand. "I've done some research and it seems what Merlin is saying is true - or at least some of it. There's references in many texts to a Vampire Queen - her identify is, well, vague, but most Watcher's have assume she is the vampire Morgause, whose dates seem to match that of the Vampire Queen."

"So, she's in town?" Gwen squeaks, sounding a bit terrified, and Arthur can't really blame her, because he's not feeling much more confident himself.

Gaius nods, reluctant, and admits, "If what Merlin says is true, I believe so."

They all look at each other - even Morgana, who's frozen with her nail-varnish mid-flick - and say nothing, too afraid to ask anything further, afraid of what the answer will be. They shift uncomfortably, worry hanging in the air, until Lance ventures, "And that's bad? Really bad?" in a croaky sort of voice.

"The worst," Gaius informs them, which is exactly what Arthur doesn't want to hear. The Watcher looks back at his books, apparently unable to hold his Slayer's stricken gaze. "The Vampire Queen is an ancient vampire of formidable power. As a witch in life, it appears she retained her power in death, making her far beyond anything you've faced before. She's no ordinary vampire. It says here, she has the powers of the devil, ancient and unstoppable."

"What powers?" Arthur asks, reluctantly, because he's not sure he even wants to hear the answer. "What would that involve?"

Gaius gives his shoulders a helpless shrug, his finger skimming pages at a frantic pace. "I don't know," he admits, "Not many people have lived to write excerpts regarding the Vampire Queen." He flicks through a couple of books with a loud rustle. "There's references to hypnotism (sort of like Merlin is capable of), mind-control, sensing abilities - but it's all rather vague."

Arthur's stomach lurches, and he's fairly sure he is sporting a rather attractive deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression, eyes wide and round. "Um - I don't have any of those powers!" he exclaims.

Gaius nods, and scratches his head. "No, no you don't."

There's silence for a long moment, until Morgana says, "Well, Arthur, it's been nice knowing you," in a mournful sort of tone.

"Morgana!" Gwen breathes, looking aghast on Arthur's behalf, and the Slayer thanks the Lord he has one nice friend.

He glares at Morgana through slanted eyes, hoping she can feel his disdain. When she says nothing further, however, and merely returns to painting her nails obliviously, Arthur looks to Gaius, throwing up his hands in defeat. "She's right, isn't she?" he exclaims, not caring that he might be sounding slightly over-dramatic, "I might as well stab myself now and save Morgause the trouble."

"Don't be ridiculous," Gaius replies, with an exasperated shake of his head. He removes his glasses and puts his books down with a thump. "We just have to step up your training, that's all. Maybe you can get Merlin to help you."

"Yeah," Morgana says sarcastically, "That's a good idea! Get trained by the crazy and potentially evil vampire!"

Arthur just ignores her.

"Train you?" Merlin repeats later that night, as though he can't quite believe what he's hearing.

He's sat on the floor cross-legged, picking at the grass, and watching - rather apathetically - as Arthur fights his latest vampire. He makes no move to help, only cringes when the Slayer takes a particularly hard punch. It's both annoying and endearing, and Arthur's suddenly finding it rather difficult to concentrate.

"Yes," he replies, between blows, "Train me."

Merlin says nothing for a moment, his face scrunching in the moonlight, before he asks conversationally, "Train you how? Isn't that what your Watcher's for?"

"Gaius is pretty old," Arthur explains, being generous, because Gaius is very old. "His ability to do the physical stuff with me is fairly limited." He ducks the vampire's flying foot. "He's more of a point and order around sort of guy."

Merlin nods understandingly, and tilts his head, following with curious eyes as Arthur smacks the vampire into a tombstone and delivers a roundhouse kick to his jaw.

"It's just - you've been around for centuries, right?" the Slayer continues, gulping in a lungful of air and flipping himself backwards, retrieving his stake that he had dropped a few feet away. "You've got moves I've never even heard of - and presumably the Vampire Queen will as well." He ducks as the vampire flies for him, and twirls until he's at it's back, stabbing the stake between his shoulder blades with all his might. "I have no tactic or technique beyond win."

Merlin watches unblinkingly as the vampire disintegrates into dust, and comments, "Seems to be working out pretty well for you."

The Slayer dusts of his hands and sweeps the hair - which is now plastered all over his face - away from his eyes. "You did say you were here to guide me," he points out, not wanting to plead, but wanting Merlin to do this for him more than he's willing to contemplate - and he's not even sure why. He meets the vampire's gaze dead-on. "Please."

"So you must -" Merlin begins, before breaking off. He looks down at his feet and fiddles with his laces, brow furrowed, before trying again. "So you must believe I have a soul then?"

Arthur nods his head in a reluctant sort of jerk. "We looked it up, and Morgana and Gaius agreed it wasn't entirely implausible," he says, shuffling on the spot, "So maybe."

Merlin raises his eyebrows. "Maybe?"

Arthur sighs, not wanting to admit that he does believe him, in case he's wrong and Merlin's playing him like a complete idiot. He doesn't want to be naïve - to have it come back and bite him in the ass, or neck, as the case may be - but he wouldn't even be asking the vampire to train him if he didn't truly believe he was good. He just really doesn't want to admit it.

"Well, ok," he says slowly, reluctantly, "Yes, I do trust that you have a soul - for now. Because I'm a nice, trusting person." He shifts from one foot to another and looks down at Merlin meaningfully, his stake still clutched in his grasp. "But if you are lying and you try to kill me, I swear to god, I'll stake you so hard your mother will feel it."

The vampire stares at him in something akin to astonishment for one long moment, and blinks slowly, nodding. "Consider me warned," he croaks.

To be continued...

A/N This chapter was originally supposed to be longer, but I cut some things out, things were moving a bit too quickly. I'm going to add an extra chapter in instead, so it might take me some time to figure it out.

Please R&R! It takes hours to write, only minutes to review :)