A/N: I don't own BtVS or Dr Who. Just writing this for fun and hope you guys enjoy as well! I would have put in the challenge but it's hugely long so i figured you guys could find it for yourselves if you were really interested! hope you like! leave reviews and let me know what you think! love xx Shezzi
The Doctor and Rose clung to the console as the TARDIS shrieked, sparked and jolted. Just moments ago they had been floating in the vortex, calmly discussing possible destinations, then the TARDIS started to shake.
Rose's grip was torn from the console by a particularly violent shake, and she was thrown across the room.
“Rose!” shouted the Doctor in panic, unable to see her through the smoke the TARDIS was now spewing copious amounts of. She didn't reply, and he was forced to cling tighter to the console until the TARDIS stopped moving with a rather resounding thump.
He immediately scrambled across the grating to where Rose lay limply against the wall, her limbs askew. There was blood running thickly down the side of her face, and he took her head quickly in his hands, running one hand over her neck to check for spinal injury before tracing the blood to its source and applying pressure to the rapidly bleeding wound.
As soon as he staunched the bleeding he was lifting her carefully in his arms and carrying her down the hall to the medbay. Laying her on the couch he reached back with one hand and grabbed the dermal regenerator off the trolley, quickly passing it over the cut, the skin knitting together instantly.
He set the tool back down and grabbed a small penlight, checking her pupils. They were slightly sluggish, the right slightly larger than the left. “Looks like you've got a bit of a concussion there, Rose,” he murmured, turning away.
“Wha'?” she slurred, her eyelids flickering.
“'ello,” he said, smiling as he cupped her cheek in one hand, the other fumbling for a vial of medicine in the cabinet next to the bed. “Don't try to move, you're gonna have quite the headache. This'll take care of that. It'll help a bit with the concussion, but mostly that'll have to take care of itself. Imagine, all of time and space and no one had come up with a treatment for a concussion. Just like the common cold, it is.” He swabbed the inside of her elbow as he spoke, and with a light touch injected the medication.
“Tha's better,” she said, her eyes slowly opening.
“Is it? I'm glad.” The Doctor smiled down at her.
She pushed herself up off the pillow, pausing briefly as the room spun. “Where are we? The last time the TARDIS was that bumpy...” she couldn't finish the sentence, remembering what had happened.
“I know,” he replied softly, one hand cupping her cheek as his thumb wiped along her cheekbone, collecting the tear she hadn't been aware of shedding. “Let's clean you up,” he said, and turned away to grab a wet cloth, turning back just in time to keep her from falling face first off the bed. “Whoa, whoa,” he sat her back against the pillows, and started gently wiping away the blood on the side of her face, cleaning it carefully.
Rose giggled as he wiped at some blood on her neck, tickling her. The Doctor grinned broadly at the sound, it was just so...Rose. “All done,” he told her, smiling.
“Let's go see where we are,” she suggested, swinging herself carefully around on the bed.
“You sure you're up to it?” he asked, watching her carefully.
“I think so,” she replied as she stood. She swayed slightly, and the Doctor wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her. He was glad of a reason to touch her, not that he really needed one. She wrapped an arm around his waist and they made their way back to the console room.
They opened the door and started to step out, only to back very quickly inside and push it closed again, very glad that the TARDIS shields were engaged. They were surrounded by very modern looking young women carrying very...ancient looking weaponry.
“Hello, sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you,” called the Doctor, wincing slightly. “We kind of...crashed,” he explained, his explanation sounding lame even to him.
“Inter-dimensional travel?” called a voice from outside, the tone blatantly curious.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow at Rose, surprised, “Not intentionally,” he called back.
“It's all right, you can come out. Your...I won't call her a machine, she's so much more than that, her mind is incredible, she's assured me that you have no harmful intentions. It's safe.”
They reopened the door to find a red head standing in front of the girls. “How did you know we'd come through dimensions?” asked the Doctor, curious.
“I can see...stuff clinging to you, and to your ship, although she seems to be able to absorb it and get rid of it; it's from the space between dimensions,” the red head tried to explain. “I'm Willow, by the way,” she added, smiling gently. “Don't really like the look of that stuff, seems like it could have some nasty side-effects,” Willow said, and waved a hand. “There. You won't collect any more of it either, I've altered your auras slightly to repel it,” she added off-handly.
“Just like that?” the Doctor said, staring hard at the young woman in front of him.
“Just like that,” she returned.
“So, where are we, anyway?” asked Rose, curious. She started to step away from the Doctor, but almost collapsed. He caught her and snugged her gently back against his side, her head leaning against his shoulder.
“Cleveland. The Slayer House, to be precise, approximately 1.25 miles from the opening of the Hellmouth,” replied Willow as she led the way through the rooms. “Tea?”
'Hellmouth?' Rose mouthed up at the Doctor, who shrugged.
They entered the kitchen, the first room that didn't have blinds drawn over the windows, and they could see it was the middle of the night. “Love some,” replied Rose, one hand going to massage her forehead.
“Your head still hurting?” the Doctor asked softly, concerned.
“It's nothing,” she replied, waving away his concern with a soft smile. Ignoring her, he placed cool fingers on her forehead, massaging lightly with the tips.
“I'm afraid we're all out of Earl Grey, but we have chamomile,” Willow said, glancing through the tins on the bench. “Haven't had the time to shop since Giles was here, he drinks so much of the stuff it's not funny.”
“Chamomile would be perfect,” the Doctor replied, even as he moved his ministrations to the muscles at the base of Rose's neck. She sighed lightly, leaning into his touch.
“So, who are you, anyway?” asked Willow. “I could only get the lightest of touches from your...I'm sorry, I really can't think of a good word to describe her,” she admitted, shaking her head.
“She's called the TARDIS, stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space,” the Doctor supplied quickly.
“It was like she was afraid of showing me too much,” Willow set a teapot on the table along with three cups.
“She should be, if you saw more than the barest glimpse it could literally burn you alive,” the Doctor replied matter-of-factly. “As far as who we are, just travelers, really. We were just heading for our next destination when we fell through a...hole, I suppose is the best word for it, between universes, and found ourselves here.”
Just as Rose was about to ask about the 'hellmouth' that had been mentioned earlier, the outside door swung open, admitting a large group of girls, all teenagers with the exception of a short blond who looked to be in her twenties, and all armed to the teeth with the same type of medieval weaponry the other girls had had.
“Will?” asked the tiny blond, eyeing the Doctor carefully. “Who's the non-human? And why do both of them feel weird?” She looked on edge, eyes shifting between the two of them nervously.
“It's okay, Buffy, they're fine. They're from another dimension, they kind of...fell through by accident.”
“Okay,” said Buffy, eyeing them both thoughtfully. She set her weapon down on the table and sat, rolling her neck. “Need a dressing here, Wills,” she added, carefully pulling her shirt away from her shoulder, where it was clearly sticking to liquid.
Willow set the two mugs of chamomile on the table and grabbed a first aid kit off the bench behind her. “What got you?” she asked, curious.
“Someone who couldn't keep herself under control,” replied Buffy, shooting a hard look at one of the other girls, who looked decidedly ashamed of herself.
“Well, at least the shirt's already cut, I don't have to put up with you complaining about me doing that,” Willow said, lifting the torn fabric away. “Wow, Buffy, that looks pretty bad.”
The Doctor, concerned, stood and moved around the table to look. “That will need stitches,” he commented. “How much blood loss?”
“It'll be fine, it'll be healed by morning,” replied Buffy. “Just stick a dressing on it, Wills, so I can go take a shower.”
Rose, without the Doctor's support, was gripping the edge of the table, trying to keep herself from swaying. She grew more unsteady and tried to concentrate on something, anything. The blond's weapon caught her eye, it was a strange one, with a beautiful red axe at one end while at the other end the wood was sharpened into a point.
She felt oddly drawn to it, and reached out tentatively towards it. Her fingertips brushed against the wood, and she suddenly stiffened, unable to draw her hand away.
The Doctor and the girls didn't immediately notice, but moments later when she flared a scarily familiar shade of gold every eye in the room focused on her. “Rose? ROSE?” cried the Doctor, trying to reach her, but couldn't get near her, the heat too much.