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Date Posted: 08:49:43 04/09/04 Fri
Author: Kuzibah
Author Host/IP: 12.175.117.195
Subject: Re: New Fanfic- Blanket of Stars (part 3)
In reply to: Kuzibah 's message, "New Fanfic- Blanket of Stars (part 1)" on 08:47:36 04/09/04 Fri

Xander got started on the caravans right after his meal, framing the windows on the most needy of the wagons. By mid-afternoon several of the circus’s children had gathered round to watch and keep up a steady stream of questions. By the twentieth request to “help” by running one of the power tools, Xander began handing out sheets of fine-grit sandpaper to his “volunteers,” with instructions on smoothing the outward-facing sides and edges. He lost quite a few after five or ten minutes of unidirectional sanding, but to his delight three of them stayed on until he quit for the day.

The three, two boys and a girl, were promoted to “assistants,” and dismissed for dinner with an invitation to return the next morning, when they might move up to staining.

Xander met up with Oz and Bema in the mess tent, and was pleased to see Gracie there, as well. In fact, the table was seated with many of the performers from the Parliament of Wonders, Circus Internationale’s sideshow attraction where Oz transformed into a werewolf for the crowds.

Xander quickly gathered from their conversation that they had begun designing and rehearsing the season’s show. Gracie told him about her idea, to begin seated at a vanity, framed where the mirror should be, her lower body partially concealed by the vanity skirt. As the audience filed in, she would appear to be simply preparing to go out: patting on powder, brushing her hair, spraying on perfume with an old-fashioned squeeze-bulb bottle. It would only slowly become evident she was doing it all with her feet.

They discussed the way her booth was to be decorated, and what Gracie should wear. They debated whether music should be used, and the patter the barker would say in introduction. They continued to talk long after dinner ended, and when the cooks asked them to vacate the tent, they spread a blanket alongside Xander’s teardrop and talked for two more hours while the moon rose.

- - - - -

Xander installed the caravan windows first thing in the morning, then began work on one set of axel and wheels that had rotted into splinters. The caravan was currently supported on a truck trailer with I-beams, but Xander wanted to make the new wheel base strong enough that the caravan could be rolled into the grass at each encampment.

The “assistants” arrived mid-morning, and Xander showed the two younger ones, Pali and Simza, how to mask the glass on the windows with tape and brown paper before painting the frames. The older boy, Balo, though near 17, was a little slow, so Xander decided to have him help by holding the heavy oak logs steady while Xander shaved them down perfectly round and smooth. This also involved transporting the axel back and forth between the sawhorses and the worktable to see how it rolled.

After about 20 minutes, Simza, the girl, suggested she and Balo switch, since painting was so boring, and insisting she was just as strong as he. Xander managed to placate her by explaining he had pegged her for someone with an artistic eye, and the work continued in relative peace.

That night, after dinner, Gracie came and talked with him while he lathed the 64 spokes he needed for the caravan’s four wheels.

- - - - -

Things fell into a routine. The caravans, being small, were going more quickly than Xander had first estimated, allowing him to take some time on the ornamentation. He carved leaves and birds, abstract curlicues and the interlaced knots he’d learned from a Welsh craftsman in England. He learned from Luca that the symbol of the Romany Gypsies was a red spoked wheel, so he incorporated it into the decoration, much to the clan’s delight.

Gracie continued to rehearse and refine her act, adding props and music. Enid, the circus’s seamstress, created a beautiful beaded leotard, and Xander used part of his first day off to accompany Gracie on a trip to Venice’s flea markets to find a suitable vanity, and the rest of the day to strip it and paint it white.

After ten days, Xander came to the job one morning to find the show’s artist, Etienne, had hung a canvas poster from the side of Xander’s work tent proclaiming “The Amazing Xander! See Breathtaking Feats of Carpentry performed LIVE Before Your Eyes!” Below was a caricature of Xander as a blue-skinned Hindu god, each of his six arms holding a different woodworking tool. At the sight of it, Xander could only lean forward with his hands on his thighs and laugh.

- - - - -

That same week, the circus acts who’d wintered elsewhere with their families began to return to the roost. Xander could barely concentrate on his task at hand as the encampment filled up with elephants and tigers, stunt motorcyclists, clowns and performers of all kinds.

Mr. Carling, the circus’s owner, was the calm eye in a storm of activity as the season’s show took shape. Xander’s eye and attention wandered often as he saw the various acts rehearse, and Gracie and Bema had to bring him his dinner while he worked.

He saw his three assistants less often, as they were needed to take part in their families’ acts: Balo handing the knives and axes to his brother for precision throwing, Pali and Simza tending to the horses their sisters rode bareback.

Everyone got up early and worked late into the night, not just on their performances but preparing the circus “infrastructure” for its seven-month tour through Europe. The enormous striped tent was stress-tested and reinforced in every seam, damaged panels patched or replaced before being carefully repainted with red and yellow dye. Trucks and vans were tuned until they purred like the show’s big cats, and props were brought into perfect repair.

Enid led expeditions to the famous Venetian costume houses and returned with bounties of feathers, beads, sequins, and satins that out-dazzled a garden of flowers. And Etienne could be heard at all hours in his truck-trailer workshop, Motown music blaring as he painted the dozens of banners that would announce to all passers-by that the circus had come to town at last.

The circus was scheduled to move out at the end of March and play its opening dates by the first weekend of April. Carling wanted at least three previews before they left, and they’d already had inquiries from the locals, since the previews were open free to the public. The days were running short.

Xander, it seemed, was the only one comfortably ahead of schedule. He’d punched out on the caravans and was now refurbishing the cabinet for the calliope and the orchestra grandstand. He was, in fact, doing them for next to nothing, looking for an excuse to stay on. He wanted to see the previews, having seen too many bits and pieces to not bring his curiosity to a pitch. He hadn’t even scheduled a time to return to England, knowing he could catch the train home at any stop along the way.

- - - - -

In the week before the first preview, time seemed to compress. Around Xander’s workshop, it felt like the circus was moving in fast-forward as the show was molded into its final shape.

At dawn the morning of the preview, the encampment was awakened by the clanging of the bell outside Carling’s trailer. Roustabouts took off at a run to erect the enormous tent in the adjacent field, assisted by the three trained elephants and many of the performers.

Mr. Carling stood at the edge of the field with a stopwatch, dictating notes on the progress to his son, Brandon. Once the tent was up, the grandstand, bleachers, rings, lights, high wire, and trapeze were set up and tested. The sideshow, meanwhile, got their stage and tent in place. By the time the performers were starting to dress for the show in the late afternoon, a sizable audience had gathered, and the popcorn and cotton-candy sales were brisk.

Xander had dismantled most of his own work-space, and Etienne had given him room to store it in his trailer. Now he eagerly joined the crowd waiting to see the sideshow, and stood admiring the canvas banners hinting at the wonders within.

Oz’s banner showed a strange man/wolf hybrid, seemingly split down the middle of his body and dressed in horror-movie-style shredded clothes. The head had two faces, both in silhouette: a calm man’s face looking left, a snarling wolf looking right. Even knowing the werewolf as well as he did, Xander found the image disturbing, and a credit to Etienne’s skill.

Gracie’s banner was more straightforward, a simple, but flattering portrait of her posed as the Venus de Milo surrounded by smaller images from her act.

The show was the classic “ten-in-one,” ten performers in a line of platform stages separated by canvas walls. Barkers led through groups of fifteen to twenty, presenting each act with a short patter about them.

As Xander waited, he felt a touch on his elbow and turned to see Simza and Pali, his “apprentices.”

“We won’t be needed yet,” Simza said, “and we wanted to see the show.”

“Come with us,” Pali said.

“I was planning to,” Xander told them. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“We’ll have Mr. Tivoli lead us,” Pali said.

“He’s the owner of the sideshow,” Simza explained. “And he can tell us in English.”

“Oh, good idea,” Xander said, and then they were at the head of the line.

Mike Tivoli was, like most of the sideshow performers, from North America. St. Louis, specifically. He was somewhere between thirty-five and fifty, and was just the sort of big, outgoing guy you’d expect would run a circus show. He led Xander and the two children into the first berth, and launched into his pitch.

“Step up and see the Living Skeleton. Standing six-foot-two and weighing less than fifty pounds…”

- - - - -

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[> Re: New Fanfic- Blanket of Stars (part 4) -- Kuzibah, 08:50:47 04/09/04 Fri (12.175.117.195)

Gracie was fourth in line, and she gave Xander a warm smile when he entered, then began her act. Xander had seen bits of it before, when she was rehearsing, but here, with the lights and the costume, everyday things like doing her makeup and hair seemed other-worldly.

Oz was in the final berth, and even knowing the werewolf as well as he did, Xander felt his heart climb into his throat as the transformation took place. He was relieved to step back into the evening air.

“To the big top, then?” Xander asked the children. Pali nodded excitedly, but Simza looked apprehensive, and glanced around as though looking for someone.

“You okay?” Xander said.

“I….” She hesitated. “Something’s not right.”

“What is it?” said Pali.

“I don’t know,” said Simza. “Something…”

Oz came up behind them, accompanied by Gracie. He had a baseball cap pulled low to conceal his hair, and Gracie wore an oversized denim jacket around her shoulders.

“Come on,” Oz said. “They’re starting.” And the group climbed into the section of the bleachers reserved for the circus staff.

Etienne and Enid were there, along with many of the performers’ family members and the show’s office clerks. In the bandstand the orchestra began the traditional “March of the Gladiators,” and the performers began to process around the ring.

- - - - -

After a few acts, Pali and Simza left to help their family with the horses, and Gracie moved down to lean against Xander. He slid an arm around her back, and felt her body relax against his. It was nice.

After about an hour, a group of four contortionists took the ring. They wore patterned body suits and face paint, and when the lights dimmed, their costumes were studded with tiny lights.

Oz leaned forward and said softly into Xander’s ear, “remind me to tell you a story about them.”

Suddenly the evocative music stopped, and the orchestra launched into “The Stars and Stripes Forever.”

“Did they miss a cue?” Xander asked as the performers hurried from the ring.

“No,” Oz said, getting to his feet. “That music is only played in emergencies. Come on.”

Miss Lili and her trained poodles took the ring as Xander, Oz, Gracie, and the rest of their section silently exited their seats and slipped out under the canvas.

They gathered at the ticket booth where an agitated group was milling. Brandon Carling, the circus owner’s son, ran up to Oz and grabbed his shoulder. “It’s Tivoli, Oz, he’s…”

He was interrupted by his father. “Brandon,” the ringmaster said, “take Oz, Xander, Luca, and the rest of the Gypsies. Show them what we’re up against.” He addressed the others more loudly. “We’re ending the show early. I’ll go in after Lili and announce we have technical difficulties. The audience will be disappointed, but we need to get them out and to their cars as quickly and safely as possible.”

“Come on,” Brandon said, leading the small group around to the sideshow.

They stepped inside. The fluorescent work-lights were on, harshly illuminating the first platform stage. There, carefully laid on a canvas tarp, were three bodies: Mike Tivoli, the owner of the sideshow, Helmut Meng, still in his clown pantaloons and face paint, and Balo, the oldest of Xander’s carpentry assistants.

With a sob, Gracie pressed her face to Xander’s shoulder, but Oz climbed onto the stage and tipped Mike’s head to the side. On his throat were two ragged fang marks.

“Vampires,” Oz said, his voice low and furious.

“Oh, God,” Xander said, and Luca muttered a curse in his own language.

“Xander, take Gracie to our van,” Oz said. “Tell Bema what happened. She’ll know what to do. Do you have a stake?”

Xander shook his head, and Oz muttered, “and you born in Sunnydale, too.” He reached around and pulled a stake from the back of his waistband and tossed it to Xander. “Take that and meet me back here. Luca, you and the rest of your men surround the perimeter…”

Xander put an arm around Gracie and half-led, half-pulled her towards Oz’s van. Bema met them at the door. She clutched a stake and a crucifix.

“I heard already,” she said. “I’ll keep Gracie here.” She passed the crucifix to Xander. “Take this,” she said. “I have many others.”

“Thank you,” Xander said, and he took off back to the sideshow.

The tent was deserted when he returned, and Xander brandished the cross a little as he stage-whispered, “Oz!”

Xander stifled a not-at-all-girly scream as he felt the furry body of Oz-wolf against his leg, then hissed, “do you know where they are?”

In response, the wolf sniffed the ground, padded in a circle, and started tentatively towards the horse paddock. A panicked whinny, cut off suddenly, set them both to running. They entered the cramped, dimly-lit enclosure of trucks and canvas that served as a stable. The horses moved about, clearly agitated. Xander stepped towards the light-switch and heard a shouted, “Look out!”

He saw only a blurred shape in his peripheral vision, simultaneous with the snarl from the wolf, and then there was a cloud of dust and the smell of wood smoke that came with a vampire’s demise.

Nearby, two horses reared and made a horrifying sound, and the space was suddenly filled with vampires. Xander swung his stake arm, stabbing two vamps in quick succession. The wolf leapt for the fiends’ throats, tearing two heads off with animalistic ferocity.

Then Xander whirled, scanning for his next adversary, and he saw her---

Simza, his little helper, spinning through the air, with the broken end of a broom handle in one hand and a length of chain in the other. Time seemed to slow down as she dispatched the three remaining vampires with a ruthlessness that was beautiful. Her hands and feet were a concert of deadly force as she swung the chain, looping it around each neck, pulling the creature off-balance, then plunging the stake home.

Xander felt the hair on his arms and neck rise, as though the air was shot through with electricity; he was transfixed by this incandescent brutality.

When the last vampire was dispatched, as the dust settled into the hay, Simza dropped her weapons and retrieved her brother from behind the saddle-rack.

“Are you all right, Pali?” she fussed, and Xander snapped his mouth shut.

“Oh, God,” he said. “You’re a Slayer.”

- - - - -

By the time the sun rose, most of the encampment sported Gypsy-made collars under their clothes, close-fitting bands of silver, embossed or etched with crosses. And more than a few had stakes and crosses shoved into pockets or tucked in waistbands.

Xander had woken Giles around 3 am, once he’d assured himself Simza was indeed one of the Chosen. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done the tests dozens of times already.

By 6 am arrangements had been made for Faith to meet Xander and Simza in Dover and take the Gypsy girl on to the new headquarters in London. Xander would continue on to Bath, and Giles’s home, where he would make his report. Oz would arrange to ship his tools. They would leave by train the next morning.

Further previews in Venice were cancelled, and Carling arranged to have the circus move 100 miles north and preview there. The sideshow, finding itself without a guiding hand, voted unanimously to have Oz take over Tivoli’s role. The werewolf humbly accepted.

With a heavy heart, Xander packed his bag. It wasn’t fair, he thought as he unpinned his flannel work-shirt from the clothesline stretched between Oz’s van and Enid’s trailer. This was supposed to be a break from his responsibilities, his service in the fight against evil. And here he was, once again taking a confused little girl away from her family.

“Xander.” Gracie’s voice broke into his reverie and he turned to see her standing among the drying sheets that billowed around her like sails. “Will you be coming back?” she asked.

Xander shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she turned her face against her shoulder to wipe them away. In three steps, Xander had his arms around her, brushing back her hair and whispering hushing sounds in her ear.

“It’s just, we were moving towards something special, you know?” she said. “And I wanted it to grow, and see where it went, and now…”

“Gracie, I…”

“Xander…” she whispered, and her eyes fluttered shut and she tilted her face to his.

Xander cupped her face with one hand, and brushed his thumb over her chin. He tilted her face back down and kissed her forehead. “I can’t,” he said. “Not yet.”

He hugged her tight and let her cry, protected by his arms and the swell of the wind through the sheets.

- - - - -

Xander watched Simza out of the corner of his eye as she stood at the ship’s rail, leaning into the channel winds. She had dressed traditionally, and looked like someone out of time in her long skirts, full blouse, and red kerchief. A few sooty curls had slipped out and been tangled by the sea breeze, and she kept trying to unknot them with one hand, the gesture her only concession to the nervousness she refused to show.

Each time Xander had looked at her during their journey, she had composed herself the same way: back straight, feet together, black eyes revealing nothing. It served to remind Xander that her people had spent centuries concealing themselves from those who would oppress them, and uncomfortably placed himself in the category of just another gadjó kidnapper.

She had barely spoken, only one-word answers to direct questions, and it so saddened Xander to see his little “apprentice” this way that he just stopped talking, too.

Off at the horizon, they saw the sun reflected off the beach at Dover. “We’ll be there soon,” Xander said, and Simza gave a curt nod.

They watched the water curl out from under the ferry for several minutes, then Simza gave a small sigh. Xander glanced over and caught her eye, and for a moment she looked like the vulnerable little girl she was.

Xander had seen that look many times in the previous ten months, and no matter how much he hoped it would get easier, it just got harder. And he was a carpenter, dammit, not a Watcher. He shouldn’t have to drag little girls halfway around the world.

“Will it hurt?” Simza asked suddenly.

“What..?” Xander couldn’t understand her meaning.

“Becoming a Slayer,” she said. “Does it hurt?”

“You’re already a Slayer,” Xander told her. “You have been since you were born. It’s just that until I saw you kill vampires, nobody knew.”

Simza looked a little puzzled at that. “Oh,” she said.

Xander reached across and took her hand. “But sometimes,” he said, “it does hurt to be a Slayer.”

- - - - -


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