Disclaimer: BtVS and its characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Stargate belongs to MGM and Gekko productions, from what I can tell. No top secret government employees were harmed in the making of this fic.
“Where did the bunnies go?” The chocolate eyes that turned to her were anything but warm. Although there was that whole “snapping sparks” thing going on, so maybe... Oh, right. Glare of Death from Colonel yummy-eyes. Focus, Buffy. “Well?” she continued defensively. “One minute it's 'Night of 400 rabbits' around here and the next, it's 'Watership Ghost-town'.”
O'Neill was about to rip into her, she could tell, when salvation came from an unexpected source. “BuffySummers is indeed correct, O'Neill. The rabbits have disappeared most completely.”
“Aw, crap, if it ain't one thing...”
A very cranky SG-1 team, plus one, staggered through the gate the next morning, dripping mud, leaves, lianas, and probably a selection of fauna on the ramp. As they began to strip off their gear, General Hammond spoke over the observation room's microphone. “SG-1? You are over eight hours past your check-in. Why did you not--”
Wordlessly, Colonel O'Neill removed his radio from his vest. It squelched. Daniel Jackson did the same. His radio dripped. Major Carter's radio appeared to be missing, Teal'c's was coated with what the general hoped was mud, and Buffy had the crushed remains of a radio dangling from her shoulder.
“I see.” The general had just enough willpower not to laugh at their bedraggled appearance, and instead continued, “Showers in decontamination, please. We will debrief after post-mission exams.” He paused. “And at least one additional shower.”
“Bunnies?” Janet's amber eyes were wide as she did a double-take at Buffy's comment. “You can not be serious. It was bunnies?” As Stargate Command's Chief Medical Officer, she thought she had heard it all. Especially when there were post-mission hallucinations thrown in the mix. But the team seemed stone-cold sane, and they all agreed on what happened.
“Well,” Buffy began, “we first noticed that all the cute little hoppy fuzzy bunnies were gone. Like, evaporated gone.”
“And that was when we heard what had frightened them off,” Major Carter continued.
“Great big serious thumps,” Colonel O'Neill inserted.
Janet Fraser continued to check Buffy for concussion, and mentally added a list of other checks – intoxicants? post-hypnotic suggestion? fatigue? group hallucinations? -- to run on the team.
“To be fair,” Daniel interjected, “it's not entirely unusual for members of one taxonomic family to prey on another. For example, the--”
“Ah!” O'Neill had his forefinger in the air, demanding a halt. “Daniel, we heard it all last night. Save it for the debrief. Or, better yet, for your report.”
Buffy sighed deeply. “Janet, I kid you not. This was one of those big-time 'truth stranger than fiction' moments. None of us wanted to spend the night on the run from huge, carnivorous bunnies. Especially,” she brandished a lock of ditchwater blonde hair that she had yet to wash back to Miss Clairol 27G in a hand that had two broken nails and enough ground-in dirt to double for a coal-miner's, “through a stagnant swamp. And mud pits. And more swamp. Oh, and did I mention the tar? And the mud?”
“You did.” Janet bit her lip for a moment. “So you actually saw them?”
“Oh, yeah,” said O'Neill, in his sarcastic drawl. “Up close and personal. Over, and over. And yes, before you ask, they did in fact have many, many, big pointy teeth.”