Disclaimer: I own nothing of SGA or of BtVS. Sorry, it all belongs to their creators and whoever else has rights to them.
The last thing that Buffy Summers, the Chosen One and oldest living Slayer, expected to find the morning after she had leaped off of a steel girder some twenty stories up was to wake up; ever.
It came as a little bit of a shock, actually, more then a little bit of a shock. However, the moment that she was welcomed back into the waking world she realized that she hurt. Every fricking where.
Curling into a ball she clutched the covers tighter around her, shivering, her limbs shaking uncontrollably, and teeth chattering.
"Damn," she said, burrowing deeper.
Waking up, yay.
Having no idea why she felt so weak and miserable, really bad juju.
Opening her eyes she groaned again and closed them as she waited until the room stopped spinning.
The hazel eyes opened again slowly, the details fuzzy since her eyes didn’t want to work.
About the only thing that she was able to discover was that the light was slanted and in the center of the room. Ok, that meant she wasn't at home, her window was right above her bed, and the sunlight always fell on her in the morning. Probably the hospital.
She had survived a major fall and was apparently suffering some major backlash. After all, Slayer healing could only do so much and she never knew that it could bring her back from the dead.
Rising from the dead. It’d be a fun parlor trick, but not right now.
One day, she'd have to try and not do it again.
Groaning she looked around the bed for something, any thing to push and bring some one to help. There was nothing, no little control with red buttons, no buzzers, no...nothing. And the room was growing dimmer.
Yep, really bad, bad, bad juju.
Moaning, she sat up, still clutching the blankets close to her, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
That was when it hit her; her legs.
They were a foot off the floor. She was short, but not that short.
Blinking owlishly, a harsh wracking cough tore out her, causing her eyes to water.
"This isn't good," she croaked and the door slid open.
"Hey cupcake," a tall lean man stood in the door way and Buffy suddenly felt dizzy as memories washed through her.
Oh God, not again. The cascade of images washed over her in an unrelenting wave and when she looked up tears shadowed her hazel eyes.
"Daddy?" She whispered and another cough ripped through her.
“Baby? What’s wrong?” Rushing across the room, Lt. Col. John Sheppard crouched before his daughter, smoothing back the unruly black hair, and felt the fever on her brow.
Swearing under his breath he picked up the small five-year old and rushed out towards the transporters. “Carson,” he said urgently into the headset, “Lizzie’s running a fever, I’m on my way.”
* I know it's a kinda short chapter but I'll post another, hopefully longer, one soon. I read the challenge a while ago and it just stuck. As always, if you have any questions please let me know, I'm always happy to answer as long as I know the answer, and any comments are welcome. Just remember- please be gentle. Hope you liked it and please review. Reviews make my day! :-)