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Summary: After the death of her parents, Willow finds that she's not really a Rosenberg, but a Jackson. SGC, beware.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Willow-CenteredCadyNicoleFR18511,19349727,58824 Sep 0824 Feb 09No

Its All Over

Disclaimer-I own nothing. Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Joss Whedon and Company, while Stargate SG1 and all included characters are the property of their owners...who are not me. Please don't sue, you wouldn't get much.

I'm new to writing in the Buffyverse, so let me know what I can do to improve the characterization of said characters. Constructive criticism is welcome and encourged!

A loose response to the Archeologist's daughter challenge set by PEZgirl. My first attempt at a Buffy fiction, so I'm sorry if my characterizations are still a little off.


Chapter One-Its All Over

Tick Tick Tick

Willow sighed as she watched the clock, blowing her red hair out of her eyes.

They were late...again.

Tick Tick Tick

Tonight was supposed to have been special. Special in the fact that her parents were going to be home, and she didn't have to go on patrol for once.

Not that Buffy would be happy that she and Xander had been going on patrol while she was in LA for the summer, but that was a different story all together.

Her parents were late, way late.

Four hours late.

If it wasn't such a usual occurrence, she would be worried, but as they usually didn't keep their promises to her, she wasn't all that worried about them...just hurt.

Tick Tick Tick

Willow was really beginning to hate that sound. She just knew that the clock took great joy in the fact that it was able to announce how late the Rosenbergs were.

She sighed again, rolling onto her back and looking at the ceiling. Now she was beginning to think that she shouldn't have told Xander she couldn't hang out with him, at least then she would have some company, and as he didn't have a cell phone she couldn't' call him. No way was she going to risk the wrath of the Harris's by calling their house this late.

Not that she liked calling Xander's house under the best of circumstances. Mr. Harris was just....mean.


Willow jolted into a sitting position, her green eyes flying towards the door. Her parents wouldn't knock, they had keys, and so did Xander. She didn't know anyone else that would come to a house this late...except for the undead.

She frowned and reached for the cross that she kept under the couch, arming herself with a stake while she was at it. She might be new to this whole “Vampire's Exist” thing, but she knew enough now to know that going to the door unarmed was never a good thing.

Even if your weapons were only an object of religious belief and a miniature fence post.

She stood up and walked across the floor to the door, her heart beginning to pound in her chest as a bad feeling washed over her. What ever was on the other side of the door was bad news, bad news in the worst way, and she knew with everything in her that she really REALLY didn't want to open the door, that the smart thing to do would be to run and hide under her bed until morning.

Evil couldn't hurt you during the day.


The knocking became more persistent the closer she came to the door, and she tried to force herself to calm down. She was getting worked up over nothing, it was all going to end up being a traveling salesman that she could just send away.

Okay, a nocturnal traveling salesman, but even then nothing for her to worry about. Annoying, but non-evil.

The thought sounded flimsy even to her.

She opened the door, coming face to face with two of Sunnydale's finest.

The one on the left consulted a small spiral notebook before looking at her. “Miss. Willow Rosenberg?” She nodded mutely, the thudding of her heart getting so loud she just knew that the two officers could hear it as well as she could. “May we come in?” Willow stepped aside mutely, waiting to see if they would cross the threshold without her having to say the words.

It didn't make her feel any better as they did. She bit her lip and looked at them, needing to know why it was them at her door and not her parents.

“What's this about, officers?” the one closest to her closed the door and motioned her to the couch. She followed the mute order, if only to give herself something to do, and sat on the worn leather, curling her feet under her and playing with her hair. “Is something wrong?”

The officer who had closed the door merely nodded and looked at her with a pitying look on his face, as if he knew what was going to happen to her and was sorry for her. She didn't like that look.

She didn't like pity in any shape, form, or fashion. She didn't need it.

“I'm afraid we have bad news, Miss. Rosenberg. Your parents....” Willow's stomach filled with lead as she listened to the officer, as she learned about the wreck, a simple single car accident, that had killed both her parents on impact. She knew that she should be feeling something, feeling sadness or anger, maybe guilt because she was the one who had begged them to be home at least one night this month, but she felt nothing.

She felt only numb. She would remember, months later when she was finally able to look back on the situation with some semblance of clarity, answering the questions posed to her, shaking her head about having anyone she could call, going through the motions that one went through when told you were alone on the planet.

She couldn't even cry as the ushered her out to their squad car, insisting that a sixteen year old couldn't stay in alone at night, especially one who had just lost her parents. She knew that they thought she might do something stupid in her grief, because she was showing them little to no emotion, but she couldn't drudge up the energy to care.

It was just so unreal.

They couldn't be dead. They had just decided to stay an extra day or two in New York, and this was all a prank pulled by Cordelia, out of revenge for bringing her into the Supernatural side of things.

Yeah, that's all it was, just a prank.

Just a prank.


Two months later, she knew that it wasn't a prank.

If it was a prank, she wouldn't be sitting on the bench outside this crappy little Foster Home in L.A., watching the younger kids that were in this hell running around gleefully.

She would be back at home with her best friends, at her house with her nice big room and her laptop, the laptop that had been confiscated upon her arrival in fear that 'the youngin's might destroy it, and you don't need it any way honey.' She would still be the top of her class, still be the one who was picked on occasionally, but mostly ignored now that she had Buffy as her friend.

She wouldn't be the freak again, this time because she was sixteen and a ward of the state, placed in a home with kids all of whom were under ten.

She just wanted to go home.

“Willow! Willow Rosenberg you come in this instant! Someone's here to see you girl!”

Yeah, home would be good, because it would be away from the Witch that called herself Willow's foster mom. Willow sighed and heaved herself off the bench, stepping over random toys in the yard as she headed towards the door.

Great, probably another social worker or psychiatrist, trying to break her out of the shell she had built around herself since she was forced to leave Sunnydale.

Didn't they understand that if they broke that shell they would break her as well? The only reason she was still alive was because she didn't have to think, didn't have to feel.

They might not have been around much, but they were her parents. They had meant something to her, even if she had never meant all that much to them.

Why wouldn't these people understand that?

She pushed the door open with a sigh and let it bang shut behind her, walking into the living room where she knew whatever visitors she had would be waiting, letting a sullen, uninviting scowl settle onto her features. Maybe if she was rude enough they would go away, and she could crawl back into her little hole, the little hole where she was comfortable and safe.

So these three men could just...go away as far as she was concerned, and leave her be.

“Willow? Willow, Honey, drop the scowl. I'm not going away and you know it. You're just wasting energy.” This man she knew, and knew well, but that didn't mean that she was going to stop trying to get him to go away. Unfortunately for her, she knew her Social worker to be a very stubborn man. Mr. Graham was determined to 'help' her, and made sure that she knew it every time he was around.

Which was way too often in her experience.

“I'll waste it if I want to.” She snapped back at him, crossing her arms and glaring. When would he get the point that she wasn't going to listen to him, and stop wasting both of their times? By the look on his face, that time wasn't anywhere close. Maybe in the next decade or so? She glared harder.

He just shook his head.

“Have it your way. Make a bad impression.” She just shrugged, not caring what kind of impression she made on these people. Not like she knew them, or wanted to know them.

But that wasn't quite true. She had always been a curious girl, and that part of her, though buried under a lot of pain and anger, still burned in her. But she wouldn't ask, she wouldn't give Graham the satisfaction of asking.

It would only encourage him, and that was the last thing that she wanted to do.

“Willow, this is Dr. Daniel Jackson and Colonel Jack O'Neill.” Graham motioned towards the two men sitting on the couch beside him, and Willow gave them a cursory glance. She had been right about one of her visitors, making the assumption that Dr. Jackson was another shrink brought to try and break through her shell. What intrigued her was that they had a military man with them.

What interest was she to the military? Her grades had taken a nose dive since her forced relocation, so she knew that it wasn't her brains that they were after.

And they didn't know about the undead, so it wasn't her vampire fighting prowess, what little there was of it.

So what then?

“Whatever.” And again, she wasn't going to give Graham the satisfaction. Graham just sighed.

“Willow, Dr. Jackson is your father.” He said it bluntly, almost hitting her over the head with the statement.

And to Willow it certainly felt like she had taken a hit from a sledgehammer. She sat there in complete shock for a few seconds before jumping to her feet, rage filling her like she had never felt before.

How dare he?! Her parents were DEAD, for God's sake, and he was just going to tell her that some Dr. she had never ever heard of was her father?!

“WHAT?! What the hell are you smoking, Graham??? You know my parents are dead!” No one from back home would recognize the screaming fury that was Willow now, and she didn't even stop to think that this was the most emotion that she had felt in months. All she was concerned with was hurting the man that sat so calmly in front of her after trying rip apart every bit of sanity she had left, all in the name of doing his job. “ How DARE you?!” She took a breath to continue her verbal assault, when the man stood up and put his hand over her mouth, fixing her with a glare that she had yet to see on his face. It stopped her in her tracks, though she still felt the rage bubbling under the surface.

“Willow! Sit down and be quiet, and I'll explain! Understand?” She nodded once and sat down meekly back on the couch, though she fixed everyone within range with a glare that would make the strongest man step back and take notice.

He better have a good explanation for this.

Okay, crappy place to leave off I know, but its all in the name of cliffhangers ;). Press the little review button, you know you want too.
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