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Six Degrees of Irreality

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Summary: Six interconnected double drabbles, going full circle, (BtVS/Highlander/The Culture (Iain M. Banks books)/Doctor Who/SGA/The Dresden Files/BtVS)

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > GeneralJinxedwoodFR1311,2701371812 Aug 0812 Aug 08Yes
Disclaimer: None of the shows and books below belong to me, all I have is my microsoft word!


The book felt heavy in his hands, and Giles blinked as he reread the text. "It's the end of the world," he said, taking off his glasses.

Don looked at him impatiently. "Rupert, there's always an apocalypse in your line of work. Now do me a favour and scarper before my assistant comes back. We're not supposed to fraternise, remember?"

"You have an assistant?" Giles asked. "What does he watch - the books?"

"Ah yes, the witty repartee, the light banter, how I shall miss it – now bugger off to California and leave me in peace.”

The bookstore’s door bell chimed. "Don?" a cheery voice called out.

Don threw a look at Giles, before calling out “Be right there, Adam!”

"You never mentioned his speciality?" Giles asked nonchalantly.

"He’s a linguist, and don’t even think about it.”

“Think of what?”

“Poaching him - which is exactly what you were thinking, don't deny it!”

“So you’re not going to introduce us, I take it?”


"Sometimes you’re just too easy, Don,” Giles relented, with a smirk. “I'll hop out the back, shall I?"

"You do that - and Rupes?"


"Watch your head out there; I hear that the Hellmouth can play havoc with your life expectancy"

~~~Highlander/The Culture ~~~

Methos had never been someone who made snap judgements, but something told him that this... object... wasn't from around here.

I am Skaffen-Amtiskaw,” it said.

“You don’t say,” Methos said. “I don’t suppose you could add a few more consonants to that name, could you?”

"Ah, Terran humour, how...prosaic," it said, its curved, orb-like surface mirroring the buildings around them. "However, I doubt it would solve the problem at hand."

Methos sighed, and eyed the army of aliens that had suddenly appeared on the Parisian streets – or should he call them a flotilla? They didn’t strike him as a species that were used to solid ground, maybe it was all the tentacles.

They are called the Affront,” Skaffen-Amtiskaw said. “And no, that name is not a coincidence. They have also, apparently, taken a liking to hunting humans - and I believe you have enough endangered species on his planet already, don’t you?

“Do you really think this is the best time for a sermon?” Methos asked dryly.

Just my considered observation,” Skaffen-Amtiskaw said. “However, humanity’s rather tawdry reputation for eco-conservation doesn’t especially merit genocide, so why don’t you do as I ask, and this planet may still have an apex species in the morning.”

~~~The Culture/Doctor Who~~~

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Donna said.

I assure you, I am completely serious,” replied You Would If You Really Loved Me.

Donna glared at the air around her. “I don’t believe this! This was supposed to be a holiday. Take a spin on a Culture ship, he said. Fun and frolics, and absolutely no trouble whatsoever, he said—”

Well, trouble is such a relative term—

“I’m not finished talking yet!”

The ship sighed. “Of course you’re not,” it grumbled. “Perish the thought.

Donna opened her mouth to give the ship another piece of her mind, but then thought better of it. After all, she doubted that it was really the GCU’s fault. This was the Doctor, after all, he could find trouble in a kindergarten school. “So what’s he done, then?” she asked softly.

He had a game of chess with the Sleeper Service”, the ship explained.

“The wha—“ Donna took a deep breath. “Another ship name, right?”


Donna shook her head, the Culture’s ships had a weird sense of humour, and she was sure she was still only getting half the joke. “So, what happened?”

Well, how shall I put this…did you know the Doctor is a rather sore loser?

~~~Doctor Who/SGA~~~

"Don't get me wrong, Doctor Jones, I'm grateful for your help - but where the hell did you just pop out from?" the doctor asked, as they rolled the patient into isolation.

"Long story, Doctor Beckett," Martha said. "Which I would tell you, if I thought for a moment that you'd actually believe me."

"Ah, right, this doesn't involve a trip to outer space, does it?"

Martha stumbled. "How did you—"

He laughed. “Well, the first clue was when my patients, in an Edinburgh hospital, started to mutate into something resembling a Triffid, and the second clue was… well, let’s just say you’ve got that look about you.”

“That look?”

“The look that people get when they realise that they’re not alone in the universe,” he said. “Call me Carson, by the way.”

“Martha,” she replied, with a small smile. “So, when did it happen to you?”

“Sorry, lass, no can do,” he said. “Classified and all that.”

“Really?” Martha asked, her curiosity piqued. “They didn’t mention that.”

“Well, they wouldn’t, would they - it being classified and all?” he said, with a mischievous grin.

Martha laughed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Who, me?” he asked. “Well, maybe a little…”

~~~SGA/The Dresden Files~~~

The portal opened, a raw and uncontrolled force in the middle of an alleyway, and Harry automatically activated his shield bracelet as he approached it.

"So, is this enough trouble to merit a two am call?" Murph asked, gun already drawn.

Dresden sighed. "Give me a break, Murph," he said. "How was I to know it was you?"

"Ah, so you only snarl at other people in the early hours?"

"I didn't say tha--"


The portal disappeared with a pop, and Harry Dresden blinked as he eyed the small heap of bodies on the pavement. They looked human.

"Chicago PD!" Murph hollered instantly. "Don't move a muscle!" It must be nice to have complete faith in your authority, Dresden mused.

"Believe me, at this very moment, that sounds very good,” one of them groaned. “What the hell did you just do, Rodney?"

Another body twitched "Hey, I'll just have you know that I've just accomplished the impossible and—"

"Um, Rodney, John, perhaps now is not the time?" a feminine voice interrupted.

The fourth body just growled.

“ID!” Murph barked.

“Will dog tags do?” one of them asked, lifting his head.

Dresden sensed Murphy relax slightly beside him. “Army or Navy?” she asked

“Air Force,” he said, with a lazy smile.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Figures.”

~~~The Dresden Files/BtVS~~~

It was a dark tunnel, a hair’s breath from Undertown - so when she jumped out of nowhere, sword held aloft, Harry Dresden could be forgiven for raising his staff automatically.

"It's one of those classic cases of bringing a sword to a magic fight, isn't it?" she asked lightly, as she eyed the glowing staff.

Harry hesitated. “Actually, I’m still hoping that there won’t be a fight at all,” he said. Slowly, he laid his staff on the ground, and held up his hands. “Harry Dresden, Wizard.”

“What? Like that guy in the phone book?” she asked, bemused.


“Huh, weird, Giles thought you were a dud,” she said. “He said that a White Council member would - and let me quote him on this - be more likely to take up salsa dancing than advertise in the yellow pages.”

Harry’s lips twitched. “Sounds like Giles has met a few council members in his time,” he said.

“Yeah, well, Watcher, kind of goes with the job description,” she said, with a shrug.

Harry did a double take. “Watcher? But that means you’re the—”

“Yeah, yeah, one in every generation,” she sighed. “Otherwise known as Buffy.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Buffy, how good are you at slaying Dragons?”

"Well, duh!" She rolled her eyes. “What do you think the sword is for?”


The End

You have reached the end of "Six Degrees of Irreality". This story is complete.

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