Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Live on New Server

Nothing you can possess...

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

Summary: After suffering from worried Slayers, Keys and Witches, Xander gets a new job for the Council

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Xander-Centered > Theme: HumorDireSquirrelFR717426827,3763 Mar 103 Mar 10No
Stargate SG1/Buffy crossover.There is no ownership by me to any of the characters, nor does anyone I know own the characters below. I think you'll find that MGM and Joss W. hold dominion over them.

I am interested in opening this up for a collaboration if people want to continue it. I haven't done any yet, so I think it would be fun. Email me and let's talk.

“Xander, I’m glad you’re back,” Giles said. They were in the new office. It had a big desk that never got used, books that got used frequently and a pair of nice comfy chairs in the Spanish Inquisition style.

“Why do I not like that tone?”

“Because we’re going to repeat a conversation you never enjoy,” Giles said. The one eyed man rolled his eye.

Fray Adjacent,” he said sarcastically. “Not this again.”

“Yes, well that last incident with the Karlov demons has set a new record for complaints about you getting injured,” Giles said leaning back in his chair.

“I’m not going to quit doing this, you know that,” Xander protested, not for the first time. “Buffy and Wills know-“

“No, I think they well understand why you do this,” Giles said. “It was your little younger slayers. They want to wrap you in cotton and store you in a safe so you never get hurt.”

“Not going to happen.”

“I know, which is why I want to offer you a compromise,” Giles said.

“Good-for-me compromise, or good-for-worrying-slayers-Keys-and-witches compromise?”

“I actually hope this will be a true compromise,” Giles said. “I want you to head up a new division.”

“You’re not making me REMF-Xander,” he argued.

“No, Of course not,” Giles said. “Willow came up with the idea, Buffy suggested you to head it up. It’s come to our attention that there are a number of girls who are just not as skilled at combat as they are at other pursuits. No one wants them hurt, but they still want to help.”

“Not a babysitter.”

“Once again, I agree with you, your talents are very important to us and you are the best for the position,” Giles explained. “Most of these women are older than you are, some younger, still Slayers, but either have strict religious rules against violence, or are simply not wired for hand to hand combat so much as acrobatics and infiltration, or are experienced with firearms and refuse certain other techniques. Most of them still want to help, but until now we didn’t really have a place for them.”

“Go on, I’m listening,” Xander said, not sure where this was going.

“And it just so happens that there are a number of world wide artifacts that-“ The expression on Xander’s face cause the next words to falter. “-that need retrieval and you’ve already figured it out.”

Xander wore a grin that would have made the Cheshire Cat jealous.

“Do you think you can do it?”

“Can I wear the hat?”

“Yes, Xander, you can wear the hat.”

Somewhere in Borneo:

Dr. Daniel Jackson had just tracked down another piece of the latest alien puzzle. It was a device that was rumored to help speak with the dead, or even bring them back to life, so the legends said. From what he hypothesized it was a remnant from some minor Goa’uld that posed as a near-forgotten local deity, something like a hand device crossed with the powers of a sarcophagus. Having made his way into the jungle temple, he had been forced to make his way carefully through the traps until he found the secret lab.
He hated having to do things this way. It was just so unprofessional.

Snatching the item from it’s shelf (it looked a lot like a baby’s rattle), he carefully put it in the containment unit for transport. Making his way back out through the traps once more, he found himself surrounded by heavily armed young women. They were a diverse group with a wide variety of skin tones and accents. Glancing around he realized his entire team of military backup was knocked unconscious by blows to the head. He saw one helmet that was quite clearly crushed.

The archaeologist sighed. Not again…

“Once again, Dr. Jackson, we see that there is nothing you can possess that I cannot take away,” quoted an all too familiar voice.

“Damnit Harris!” Jackson moaned.

To be continued?

The End?

The author is currently looking for one or more beta readers for this story. If you are interested, please email the author or leave a private review.

You have reached the end of "Nothing you can possess..." – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 3 Mar 10.

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking