Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Rules for Challenges

The Usual Suspects

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

This story is No. 10 in the series "The Places She'll Go". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Three cameos for the Places series. Takes place during "Misbegotten". While rescuing Carson, the team encounters Micheal, Dawn pops out of nowhere and the proverbial hits the fan. Back up arrives for the cleanup, of course...

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Faith-CenteredStrangerFR1511,315154,1418 Feb 088 Feb 08Yes
Disclaimer: Dear God! Don't own!

AN: Starbright did the whole Dawn!Key!Wraith!Feeding! thingy better in “Lesser Children” but I thought I’d have crack at it anyway.

This all goes on during “Misbegotten”: while rescuing Carson and getting him back to the jumper, the team encounter Michael, Dawn pops out of nowhere and the whole thing goes to buggery.

So, without further ado…

The Blinding Light

Faith watches, horrified and already grieving as the creature once called Michael rips the life essence from the younger Summers sister.

But something is wrong.

Something is happening.

Dawn ignites.

The air is suddenly filled with biting points of heat. White, buzzing light spills like burning mercury from Dawn’s skin. Magnesium hot, it sears across her chest, roars up the Wraith’s arm and consumes him, eats him whole.

Michael fights it, tries to pull away, but he’s not in control now, she is. Her eyes are open, wide and filled with snapping green and silver. There are sparks in her hair and at her fingertips. Faith can feel the magic pouring forth in waves, and it’s old, so old. Ageless, timeless, and yet archaic beyond reckoning. These are the cohesive energies that put the world together, and hold it there still.

Faith’s never been so glad that Dawn’s on their side.

“You foolish boy,” the Key says. “I’m all the power in the world. You think I can’t direct how it works, how it flows?”

There are eons in that voice.

She’s pushed him back now, has his back crushed to the nearest tree, his hand still somehow glued to her chest, and now hers pressed to his, pinning him like a moth to a cork-board.

She learns forward, rasps into his ear.

“I know how you’re put together, Michael. I can make you whatever I please.”

The light haloing him contracts, and he does the same, crying out as though in pain. Faith cannot find the will to care. Not after he almost killed Teyla and Carson. Not after he’s almost killed them all.

Dawn is smiling, almost dreamily, blazing, blinding eyes fallen half closed.

“I’m going to make you human, Michael.”

The woods around them disappears in a shock of apple green light and all sound is drowned out by one long, drawn out scream, the like of which follows one into nightmares.

When it all fades, Dawn lies against the base of a nearby tree sleeping peacefully, and Michael is curled trembling upon the leaf litter, gasping and fevered.

John helps Teyla to their feet, while Ronon goes to pick up Dawn and Faith hangs onto a still unconscious Carson.

They stand looking at the fallen former…Wraith-human-Wraith? What is he now? He looks entirely human, but that’s been a lie before, a mask.

What is he, and what the hell are they going to do with him?

Home Giles and Don’t Spare the Wraith

There was a resounding boom, rather like that produced by a double barreled 12-gauge shotgun, all of sudden the Wraith leering over John didn’t have a head anymore and John himself was covered in mauve brain tissue.

“So sorry,” said the English Gentleman, striding out of the surrounding woods towards them.

There was a sinister crack as he broke open the barrel of the shotgun, discharged the two still smoking cartridges and replaced them with two more from the pocket of his herringbone coat. Then another spine-squirming snap! as he cracked the barrel back into place, reloaded.

“He was moving a little faster than I anticipated,” he continued.

Then he calmly blew holes in the pair of screaming Wraith running towards him, pulled off his glasses and polished them on his sleeve in a long-suffering manner.

In a small, oddly undisturbed corner of his brain, John was thinking that in terms of unflappability in the face of immediate death-inducing danger, this tweedy stranger was giving the famed Jack O’Neill a run for his money.

Meanwhile, Faith had wriggled free of her bonds, retrieved her sword and was happily making short work of the remaining bad guys.

Giles – for it was he – came over and cut John loose, helping him up with one faintly gore splattered hand.

“Are you quite alright?” he asked.

“Uh,” John managed, higher brain functions still a little behind the times.

A blue forelimb went spinning overhead, Faith let out a triumphant yell, and moments later was standing over the headless corpse, inspecting the Head Watcher’s handiwork.

“G-man,” she said, awed and delighted. “This is some seriously quality carnage. Have I told you how cool you are?”

“Yeah,” John added, having regained control of his speech faculties. “You might even rate a hip and down with it.”

“Now, now,” Giles murmured, smiling and pushing his glasses up his nose. “Let’s not lose our heads.”

The Good Hearted Pirate

The glyphs hover as perfect scale replicas in a secondary ring of suggested luminescence around the Stargate, just above their two dimensional representations on the ‘gate itself. Each miniature star is picked out in sliver, and linked to its companions by silk-fine lines of green. Dawn’s colours, if the dawn you’re thinking of ends in a ‘Summers’.

Faith’s hair is standing on end, and will probably be worse than John’s for the next month, but its worth it, this natural high of watching Lil’ D at her best and feeling the life force of the universe brush the edges of her soul.

She just knows she’s grinning like a loon.

The wormhole that has formed is Dawn’s signature light-show of spider-legged lightening and eerie green after glow. And yet they walk through unconcerned, these wonderful and familiar faces.

Here’s Caridad, who survived Sunnyhell with them, a machete strapped to either thigh and those big dark eyes eating up the security team standing by around the gaterium. Beside her is Karen, deceptively waif-like, but who can lob a cricket ball with deadly aim and fast enough to render a vamp harmless with a broken neck and spinal cord. The rear guard are Louise and Danny. Lou was once Faith’s lieutenant in the her Slayer House, has a memory like a steel trap, and is even now taking mental notes, eyes as busy as Cari’s. Danny is a tiny brutal fighter and moves like a half-tame jaguar on a short leash, a little ball of tightly controlled energy, ever ready to go off the moment she’s set loose.

But it’s the fifth face that commands the most attention.

Faith hasn’t seen him since she left England – at least, not in person. There have been video calls, but how can they compare?

This is Xander, and the answer is they don’t.

The ‘gate shuts down, and he takes in the people standing in front of him. His one solemn eye catches on hers, and she finds she’s holding her breath. When did these people, this man, come to mean so much to her?

And then it’s all alright, because Xander is smiling, and before she knows it, he’s muttered,

“C’mere, you crazy slay-lady, you.”

Faith doesn’t launch herself at him, like she might do if it were only him and her and Dawn and Giles. Instead, she sways over in her provoking way (because she knows he’ll find it funny), wraps her arms around his neck (‘cos it’s Xand, and he’s fun to hug) and mumbles her hellos into his shaggy hair.

“Missed you Xand-man.”

“You too, Firecracker.”

The nickname isn’t a bad word anymore. Xander took it away from Richard and her mother, and made it better, made it safe. And there she goes again, getting all misty over a hug.

But that’s okay, because she thinks he might be too.

AN2: Don't worry, I'll have the sequel up soon enough, in the meantime you'll all just have to sit on your hands and be good puppies (else it'll be a trip to the vet that none of you will enjoy, *insert fierce glare here*)

The End

You have reached the end of "The Usual Suspects". This story is complete.

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking