I own the idea only. Joss owns Buffy, Torchwood is owned by, um...someone not me? No suing please!Summary:
When the Monks made Dawn, they didn't exactly do their homework...Warning:
I have seen the first season of Torcwhood and various episodes of Dr. Who. I know more than that thanks to Wikipedia and various websites and one overly talkative friend who loves both shows. I cannot promise this will be IC or even make sense. :/ A/N 1:
This has NOTHING whatsoever to do with my other fic Unlocking Torchwood. Again, NONE. It stems from the Dr. Who Challenge 4909 only instead of being the Doctor, I chose a specific Time Agent. Mostly cause the only Dr. Who episodes I've seen, I watched for Jack Harkness. (sheepish smile) I am, however, now Netflixing the rest of the season as well so, you know, another convert. (sighs pathetically).A/N 2:
Molly and Cassie will eventually be explained but if you've read Unlocking Torchwood, well, the explanation is the same. :DA/N 3:
Trying to come up with a title for this was hell and one of the main reasons I didn't post quickly. >.< That said, the title was inspired by, of all things, the Disney movie Hercules. Kudos if you get the significance!"Let's think the unthinkable, let's do the undoable. Let us prepare to grapple with the ineffable itself, and see if we may not eff it after all." - Douglas Adams
It'd been a battle with an army of vampires. After Sunnydale, such large groups were few and far between but a Master vampire had arisen and convinced over two hundred others that they could take back their world from the Slayers.
It was thanks to Dru, ironically enough, that they got the warning in time. Dru had showed up, looking for Buffy, when she let slip what was being planned. The insane vampire had somehow gotten it into her head that she'd get Angel and Spike back if she turned the blonde. In the end, Angel and Spike chose to dust her rather than curse her with a soul when Willow offered. Angel said she deserved peace, both demon and human. Spike agreed so they'd staked her themselves.
The vampire army was decimated afterwards by the retaliating slayer army, lead by Buffy, Faith, Angel, and Spike. There were fourteen injuries and one death.
Dawn Summers. Watcher, Wicca, former Key, and sister of Buffy, Omega Slayer.
Buffy was a mess as she waited outside the slayer morgue, crying hysterically because Dawn wasn't supposed to even be at the damn battle but they'd wanted a second Wicca when they heard rumors that the vampires had hired a group of mages. Angel was keeping her in his arms, so she wouldn't put anymore dents in the walls. Vi and Molly were on the hunt with Faith, looking for any demons and vampires to kill. Cassie, who'd been in the Amazon with Rona, had tried calling to warn them as she'd seen it happen, but had been unable to get a hold of anyone. The old-school watcher who'd answered her call, one of the few to survive the First, was now in hiding because when Buffy heard he'd hung up on Cassie, the senior slayer went postal.
Spike was with Willow in the morgue itself, cleaning the brunette up. He'd refused to allow anyone else to do it, citing his promise to Buffy to always look after the Niblet. Willow was there as a precaution; if anyone knew Dawn was dead before they were ready, headquarters could come under siege. Her blood was still precious, still capable of great feats of magic. Dawn had been kidnapped more than once by someone who'd wanted to bleed her. Because of this, Dawn herself had chosen to be cremated, with her ashes being spread across the world, on all seven continents.
Spike gently took off Dawn's shirt, where the blood had dried. He winced, because he knew he could tear the stomach knife wound further if he wasn't careful. She might be dead, but he was determined to keep her as pretty and unblemished as he could as he knew she hated the thin, almost invisible scars on her abdomen.
He paused, staring in disbelief at Dawn's stomach. “Uh, Red?”
Willow, who's black and white eyes had yet to turn back to their regular green, looked up from where she was meditating to keep her temper and powers in check. “What?”
“We may have a, er, problem,” he said, causing the young woman to pop to her feet. She came over and froze, staring at the brunette's stomach—the brunette's uninjured stomach.
“Last bit of the Slayers blood, maybe?” Spike asked after a moment. “I mean...when the doc cut her, she healed up right quick then too, didn't she?”
“Yeah,” Willow murmured, hand reaching out and ghosting over where a very large rip on her stomach had been less than an hour ago. “But...she's dead, Spike. Her healing shouldn't be working postmortem, slayer-lite or not.”
“She's not a vampire,” Spike said, studying Dawn. “I'd have sensed the demon by now.”
“Ditto,” the witch murmured. “So what...”
She jumped back, startled, when Dawn suddenly gasped, eyes flying open as she lurched forward into a sitting position. Her eyes were wild, entire body shaking as she took in great deep gulps of air, like she'd been suffocating.
Spike, cursing, watched warily as Dawn looked around. “What...what happened?” she croaked out. She paused. “And why am I in the morgue?”
None of the Scoobies, from the astonished Giles or the sobbing and relieved Buffy, had understood then. Dawn had been dead, they knew that, Willow, Spike, and Angel had all felt it and Cassie had seen it, but somehow she was alive. She'd passed every test they gave her, proving she was both alone in her body and the same old Dawn, albeit one who'd come back to life.
It took nearly six months and more tests than Dawn had ever wanted to undergo but they finally stumbled upon the answer.
The Key was eternal, it would exist until The End of everything. By giving it a mortal container, the monks had had to insure that it would not cease to exist when Dawn died, either by old age or some wound. So they'd done the improbable—made Dawn immortal. She could die by wounds, as evidenced by the slicing of her stomach, but she'd always return. Her soul, the Key itself, was bound to her body. It, and by extension she, would never move on, never join family and friends who'd passed away. She would be on Earth for all eternity and she would do so looking not a day over twenty-five.
Willow had been the one to discover Dawn's cells weren't aging—at all. She would always look like she was in her mid-twenties, a fixed point in time. Unlike Spike and Angel, who actually did age in some ways, she would never look any different than she did then. No one was sure if it was something that came with her death and resurrection or if they just hadn't realized beforehand.
Ironically, after finding out she couldn't die, the Scoobies started treating Dawn like glass, as if she needed to be protected. The exception was Spike, and his inclusion as a Scooby was still iffy with everyone not a Sunnydale Mini. She always had a team at her beck and call and Giles refused to let her even close to a battle-field, sending her to head the researchers in the library if it looked like an apocalypse. Even Angel, knowing she was more immortal then he, started treating her like she was in desperate need of protection.
It was driving her crazy.
Hence why she, Cassie, Vi, and Molly were currently in Cardiff, in a pub to see if Dawn's alcohol levels had changed any. Cassie refused to tell them and Molly loved seeing Dawn completely off her head. They couldn't do it in London, as they knew they'd be intercepted by the Guard, as Dawn called the group of slayers Buffy had assigned to watch over her. So they'd snuck out in Cassie's car.
“So, next round?” Dawn asked, looking at her friends. She wasn't sure if she should be disappointed or elated that alcohol didn't seem to affect her the same way anymore; before, she would have been face first on the table by now with everything she'd drank. Instead, all she felt was a slight fuzziness, similar to how she felt when faintly tipsy.
“Same,” Molly answered, watching as Cassie played with her hand; the blonde always got incredibly touch-happy when drunk. Vi was snickering into her rum and coke, eying the nearby dart board so she'd know when it became free.
Smirking at the hiccup from the seer, Dawn weaved her way through the patrons to get to the bar, just as a man that had an incredibly outdated fashion sense appeared at it. Somehow, however, the suspenders and old coat suited him. She spared him a quick smile before waving the bartender down.
“Two appletini's, a rum and coke, and a...oh, hell, a scotch on the rocks,” she ordered. The man nodded and went to work. More softly she added to herself, “Not like it'll kill me.”
“You're from the States,” the man noted, a grin on his face. She looked at him, surprised.
“So are you,” she noted. He leaned against the bar.
“I live here,” he explained. “So how'd a girl like you end up in a place like this?”
Dawn was so startled she burst out laughing. The line was cheesy and outdated and yet...it fit him, she decided, catching Vi and Molly looking at them out of the corner of her eye.
“That was incredibly cheesy,” she pointed out once she got her laughter under control. He smirked.
“Got your attention though, didn't it?”
She smiled wryly, cause, yeah, it had. Still... “I don't think even Xander could have delivered that with a straight face and he's a master at the lame and crazy pick-up lines. Of course, he's also the master at finding and dating women who want to kill him but that's beside the point.”
“Boyfriend?” the man asked, head tilted.
“Big brother,” she corrected. “And he's why I'm here. Well, him and the rest of the insane family.”
“Driving you to drink?” he asked, studying her as if he would like to figure her out. She shrugged.
“I recently...well, I nearly died,” she explained, wondering why she was spilling to a complete stranger. To his credit, the idea of her nearly dying didn't seem to bother him, though she saw a flash of concern and something else, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. “They freaked and have been hovering ever since, driving me batty in the process. The girls dragged me out for a night of fun and mayhem, safely three hours away.”
“Three hours?” he asked, looking confused.
“We're from London,” she shrugged, nodding thanks when the bartender approached with her drinks. The man pulled out some bills and threw them on the bar before Dawn could even open her purse. She nodded her thanks after a moment.
“And you came to Cardiff to get drunk, away from your family?” he asked, picking up the tray. She made a face as he followed her to her table. “Where are you staying?”
“My...well, he was there for me and my sister while my bio-dad was fucking his secretary in Spain during my mom's funeral so he's more of a father than anyone else in my life,” she explained. He winced and she wondered absently if it was the mention of her mothers death or her father's neglect. “He has a place here just outside the city, so we're crashing there.”
“Why do I have a feeling your...father doesn't know you're crashing at his place?” he asked, amused. He nodded at someone past Dawn but given the crowd, she couldn't see who. Whoever they were, they were by her table though.
“Cause he doesn't,” she smirked. “But all his self-adopted kids have keys and the security alarm code so...”
He chuckled as they stopped. “My lady,” the man said gallantly, placing the tray on the table. Cassie had her head tucked into her arms, watching through bleary eyes as Molly and Vi attacked the dart board. “You do not look good,” he told the blonde. Dawn glanced at her and smirked.
“She's drunk,” she answered, sounding gleeful. “Which means more appletini's for me.”
“How many of these are yours?” he asked, glancing at the table worriedly. There was a lot of glasses. She shrugged as a man approached Vi about playing with them. The man who'd bought their drinks glanced at him, rolled his eyes, but smiled when Vi politely told him she and Molly were in the middle of trying to figure out who could win faster while tipsy so he'd have to wait a bit. Off to the side, a Japanese woman and a man with pretty blue eyes smiled at their friend's misfortune.
“I can hold my liquor,” she answered. She made another face. “Way better than I used to, in fact. A lot of things are better now.”
“Oh, I'm sure they are,” he said, voice low, and she flushed at how easily he made the comment sound naughty, even as she fought a smile at the way his eyes sparked with attraction. He was older, obviously, but still really freaking good looking. It was nice to know she still had some sex appeal, considering none of the assorted Council men so much as hinted at flirting with her back in London.
“You're incorrigible, you know that?” Dawn noted, amused. He smiled at her. Something caught her attention and she motioned at the man who'd asked to play, now putting five pounds down on Vi not making a shot. “You might want to warn your friend about betting with Molly and Vi. They're a lot better at darts then they're showing—and they like conning unsuspecting flirts out of their money. They think its karma.”
The man started laughing, catching the attention of his friends. The two slayers shot Dawn a dirty look, though that went pretty unnoticed by everyone. “How'd you know he's a friend of mine?” he finally asked, eyes crinkled with mirth.
“I'm not blind,” she noted, smirking. “Your look was one of fond exasperation, though a bit more exasperated than fond. I'm Dawn, by the way. Dawn Summers.”
He smiled, teeth gleaming in the light. “Jack,” he answered and she felt a little tingle go through her spine at the name that had nothing to do with the smoldering look in his eyes. “Jack Harkness.”